


A Willing Body and a Treacherous Heart

by mpoumpouka



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Tony Stark, Denial of Feelings, Dubious Consent, Harlequin, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Power Imbalance, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve being a bit of an asshole at first, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Top Steve Rogers, but not the focus of the fic, mention of past Steve Rogers/Peggy Carter, not between tony and steve, tony being a martyr as usual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:07:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 50,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23529652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mpoumpouka/pseuds/mpoumpouka
Summary: Lord Rogers purchases Stark Manor from the disgraced Anthony Stark, along with all its staff and a new personal secretary, Stark himself.OrAfter his fall from high society, the only way Tony Stark can think of to save the people who depend on him from ruin is to convince his childhood friend, Steve - now Lord Rogers- to buy his estate. Expecting Steve’s -unfortunately justified- prejudice against him, Tony decides to sweeten the deal.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 601
Kudos: 685
Collections: Stony*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sabrecmc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrecmc/gifts).



> This was inspired by a [harlequin prompt](https://sabrecmc.tumblr.com/post/186874555468/harlequin-romance-stony) by sabrecmc and by the fic [ 'The Estate'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23508715) by wisia. I hope you guys like it. It ended up a bit more angsty than I thought to be honest.  
> Warning: Though it is on his own free will, Tony is offering himself to Steve to persuade him to take the deal and it could be taken as dubcon. If you think this might make you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and don't read this fic.
> 
> I also feel I should warn you I have no beta for this, I'm not a native speaker and I haven't ever written smut before, so please be kind to me...

Stark Manor was as splendid as the last time Steve had seen it, a lifetime ago. Of course, back then there was little chance that he'd end up invited at one of their dinner parties, let alone be the host.

The party had moved from the dining room to the music room sometime after being served desert by an ever-diligent Jarvis and staff. Some things were as inevitable as time, Steve supposed. Jarvis being in the service of Stark Manor was one of them.

At his side, his dear friend Lady Natalia was chatting lively with Mr Banner about the latest gossips she’d learned when she had last been at the town. Their merry banter was a welcome background noise somewhat soothing Steve’s restlessness. On the other side of the room, the reason for Steve’s agitation was all but flirting with a somewhat flustered Sir Barton while Sir Barnes, dear old Bucky, was glaring at the both of them, probably out of some misguided loyalty to Steve. Of course, Steve knew there was no real reason for Bucky to be concerned. Stark was perfectly aware of where his limits should lie, though he, of course, loved playing with them, reaching but ultimately not crossing the line of propriety.

Stark was touching Clint’s arm again in an effort to prompt the man to laugh at some joke or another. Shameless, Steve thought again, forcing his head to turn away.

It was unfortunately a tough task to manage. All through the evening, during what was to be a welcoming dinner held on the night of his arrival in his newly purchased home, Steve found his gaze wandering to the man who had previously owned it. The disgraced former Lord Stark. He'd caught himself cataloguing the details of his looks, the expression in his still handsome face, his out of fashion worn on the edges formal wear, his overeager smiles and loud personality, still desperately trying to be the centre of attention, even after all that had come to pass.

A couple of times Steve had thought he'd caught Stark's eyes turning a bit too glassy or his smile a bit too fixed, but it had passed too quickly to be anything but his mind playing tricks on him. After all the lighting in the room wasn’t ideal, there being too few candles due to the meagre budget the manor had been forced to operate under these last few years. Not for long though. Steve was already planning a great deal of changes around the place.

Still, Steve supposed his friends had been -rightly- surprised by Stark’s presence among them. After all, most of them only knew Stark as the fallen from grace dandy aristocrat that had barely managed to escape treason charges, losing all his fortune and holdings in the process. All but this very estate which he had after some years ended up selling for scraps.

Some were, as expected, more understanding than others. Lady Natalia had asked in her last letter before she joined their party if Steve purchased Stark Manor out of devotion to the late Lord Howard, the man who had paid for Steve’ commission. In part, she had been right. Steve had felt bound by honour to help salvage what was left of Howard Stark’s property, both for the late Howard’s sake as well as for the sake of the household staff. After all, he had once been one of them. If he’d been told back then that one day he would be the lord of the manor while the heir, Anthony Stark would lose his title and company due to lies, mismanagement and other nefarious acts, Steve was sure he’d have died from laughter.

Well, he wasn’t laughing now.

_How times change, indeed._

Others, like Bucky -who’d been his best friend in the army, and his most loyal companion ever since-, already were aware of why Anthony Stark hadn't left after the transaction was completed. Bucky had raised a judgemental eyebrow when he heard that as a term of agreement to the sale of the estate Stark had also been hired as the Lord’s new personal secretary. For a man born with a title to be forced to work for a living, it was as much of a scandal as the true nature of their agreement would be, if it ever came to light. Bucky, knowing all about Steve's old infatuation, definitely suspected there was more to the bargain.

It wasn’t long until the party had quieted and the guests had retired one by one to the prepared guest rooms. Steve was one of the last to head for his chambers.

As Lord Rogers and the new master of the house he had chosen to take the master suite of the estate, the rooms that had once belonged to Anthony’s father and then Anthony himself. The Lady’s rooms adjoining his own though, those Steve had generously given to his new secretary.

To the rest of the world he supposed it would seem as a kind gesture, that he had just been considerate enough not to force Stark to reside with those who had once been his own staff. After all the Lady Rogers wasn’t alive anymore in order for her to occupy them.

Steve had been famously widowed five years ago, though the thought of Peggy wasting away from illness still made his heartache to this day. He had met Margaret Carter when he was still but a lieutenant at the army. Her father a general, Peggy was used to travelling with him and her mother despite the dangers being so close to the war held for a woman. They had liked each other from the start and a friendship quickly blossomed between them. They end up getting married after her father passed away and Steve promised to look after her. Both of them had already known heartbreak and in the end, recognizing that ache in one another had been what made them fit. Though their marriage had been based more on mutual affection than love, it still was a time Steve had been happier than not and _that_ he would always cherish.

They had been married for little more than three years before she’d passed away, taken by a brief illness. 

Losing his mother to consumption, losing his wife to fever, losing his love to money. Steve supposed he was born to be unlucky in love. Though that was unfair to his friends. He would have been lost to his grief if it hadn't been for Bucky, Clint and the others keeping him company and forcing him to carry on with his life. It was with their help that, like every other time he'd had his heart crushed, Steve had managed to move on.

And then, more than a decade after last seeing him and getting his heart _shattered_ , Anthony Stark had come to him -looking still so full of himself ~~and so beautiful Steve wanted to cry~~ -, with a proposal Steve had ultimately found himself too weak to resist.

Steve had just gotten out of his formal jacket and vest, his shirt hanging out of his breeches, when he heard a light knock from the door leading to the adjoining study, the room connected to the lady’s study.

“Come in.”

The squick of the old door hinges was almost too loud in the deafening silence that filled the room. Steve supposed he should ask Jarvis to oil them as soon as possible, part of the house maintenance of course. Or better yet he would have his secretary see to it.

Still facing away from the door, towards the lavishly- almost _decadently_ \- prepared king-sized bed Steve considered once again how had they ended up at this point. Perhaps all this luxury had been bought with money from the enemy. It made Steve feel a little better for what’s about to take place. At least theirs was an honest exchange.

This was who Anthony Stark had been all these years. Who he had probably been all the time, even back then when Steve was too blind to realize it, too young and too ~~in love~~ infatuated. He could hear light shuffling behind him but surprisingly Stark chose to remain uncharacteristically silent. Steve refused to feel bad for him. At the end of the day, all of it had been Stark’s fault. Even this happened because Stark actively pursuit it.

If anything Steve should be the one to be pitied. To have loved someone so deeply, to have been brokenhearted for so long only to finally learn that he had fallen for a traitor, a liar and now a whore. He steeled himself before he turned and sure enough, there was Anthony Stark, his _Tony_ , not three feet away from him.

He was dressed in nothing but a loose pale grey nightshirt and Steve’s breath caught at the enticing sight of him, his treacherous heart skipping a beat. Tony Stark always had a handsome face and a striking figure, always gathering the looks and praise of his peers, but somehow seeing him brought down to this, barefoot before him and vulnerable in his almost naked state made something primal inside Steve -some wounded old part of him- roar in approval.

He had already decided that he would not allow himself to feel remorse for what was about to happen. In this room he wouldn’t need to be a gentleman, he would not be Lord Rogers. Here he was allowed to be who he wanted and to do as he desired. To take what he had paid for.

Lust must have been evident on his face because he soon caught Stark hurriedly lowering his eyes, cheeks darkened. Steve paused. Surely the famous Anthony Stark who’s had more lovers than money these last few years, wasn’t one to shy away from their deal?

“You did agree to this,” Steve found himself saying, hating that it came out rough and on edge. He should not be affected so by this. This was just, it was right, it was what was agreed. It was just another aspect of their business deal, nothing more.

His thoughts screamed ‘I get to have this, _dammit_ , I get to enjoy it too’.

Tony’s gaze was burning when it settled on him, studying. After a moment of consideration, he finally answered, “I did. I do”.

Boldly, Tony took a step forward, then another and finally he was at grasp length from Steve. From that close, Steve couldn’t help but marvel at their physical differences. He was shorter than Steve, slighter too. So different from what they'd been before. And yet he looked eerily like the same, almost delicate Tony from his past. Again, the wild thing inside Steve roared with approval. This, Tony, was his to have.

 _Even if it is like this?_ a small voice at the back of his head reminded.

There had been a time when Steve would have promised the world to Tony in order to have this. A time when having Tony’s hand in marriage would mean making him the happiest man alive, not a laughing stock.

But then again this situation was as far from marriage as one could get. This was a business deal. It was carnal desire, it was a transaction.

Steve had enough of waiting. Tony had been toying with him all night, smiling at everyone else, playing songs on the pianoforte, singing and touching other people, acting every bit like the whore he had been reduced to. 

_I get to have this._

In one swift move Steve tagged the loose shirt off Tony’s shoulders, ignoring the surprised cry of protest and pulled down. With it finally on the floor, Steve was at last free to admire Tony’s glorious naked form.

“This is what I paid for,” he reminded them both.

He never thought he could be so cruel, but then again he had never thought he would ever cross paths with Tony Stark again.

Tony shut his eyes briefly. When they reopened Steve only saw determination in them.

“Yes, my Lord, that you did,” he uttered and then Steve was upon him, forcing him silent with a claiming kiss.

 _Tony_.

Steve was on fire. He was lost in the taste of him, the smell of him, the smooth feeling of his skin, the small curves of his lower back, the light tremble of his breath. Somehow they ended up on the bed with Steve on top of him. He spared a moment to let himself admire Tony’s unfocused eyes and swollen mouth before he latched himself to Tony again, kissing and biting his way down Tony’s neck to his chest and navel. The wild thing in him roared with pleasure.

When he finally got to Tony’s member he found it already half swollen. Taking the first exploring lick, Steve moaned, tasting divinity for the first time.

This was his claiming right, his reward. He needed to be reminded again and again. Tony was finally his.

His hands grabbed Tony’s calves and he pushed the legs to spread even more. Still licking Tony’s dick but never really putting it in his mouth, he brought one of his hands to the cleft of Tony’s ass only to still as he were, when he found a surprise waiting for him.

Of course Tony had prepared for this. That was what whores do, after all.

“I see you came prepared,’ he noted, and if he sounded judgemental well, it was probably because he felt it too.

Once upon a time he had thought the _world_ of this man. To Steve, Lord Anthony Stark had been a smart, enticing and almost always out of reach dream of a man. How heartbroken he had been when he had gotten rejected had almost paled in comparison to the ache the realization of Tony’s true character had brought.

When he’d learned what Tony had turned out to be: a scoundrel that preferred debauchery to honour and a man trying to keep the empire he had inherited afloat with lies and deceit. A whore that in the end sold his body because he had nothing else left to sell.

Tony remained silent. Looking up Steve thought he looked shamefaced.

'Good, he should be', Steve thought.

Maybe Tony finally realized how low he had fallen and regretted some of his life choices. He was sure Tony regretted refusing his marriage proposal, but it was too late now and Steve was a different man than who he'd been all those years ago.

He rose to his knees, using Tony’s legs to keep balance. His own dick was aching as he tugged himself free. He felt oddly powerful, situated between Tony’s spread legs, still dressed while Tony was completely bare, like he was once again stating the difference between them, that he was now Tony’s better. 

'He brings out the worst in me', Steve thought bitterly.

Tony’s eyes were glistering in the candlelight. Steve kept his gaze fixed on them as he once again grabbed Tony’s hips and lifted him with little difficulty before lining himself with the oil dripping hole and slowly pushing in.

It was heaven on earth. Ecstasy. It was far better than anything Steve had ever felt. In one moment Tony Stark managed to erase all the others that had gotten in Steve’s bed before him. Steve bottomed out and stilled, trying to catch his breath and stop his overwhelmed self from going over the edge. Too late he realized Tony had brought his hands to rest on Steve’s arms and was lightly caressing him. It made fire course through his veins. Like that it was easy for Steve to pretend that Tony really cared for him, that Tony loved him.

And so, Steve let himself go.

They fucked for hours. Tony, though uncharacteristically calm from the start, had been even more pliant after his first climax. It urged Steve to take control of him, own him, the always feisty Tony Stark being fucked to obedience by Steve Rogers, and so he ended up pushing the other man on his hands and knees to claim him once again from behind. He had lost himself to Tony’s silent sighs of pleasure, to his short gasps as he went over the edge and orgasmed, spoiling the sheets with his spent time and time again. They had ended up lying on their sides, back to chest, with Steve holding Tony in his arms and Steve’ spent cock still lingering inside Tony’s enticing warmth, unwilling to let him go, still chasing the illusion of being finally home.

It was close to dawn, sometime after they had both gotten too tired to continue when Tony finally got up, redressed and silently exited the room the same way he had entered, all under Steve’s half-asleep gaze. 

_Shit._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony settles in his new role.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, you guys, thank you so much for the amazing response!  
> I can't tell you how nervous I was of how this story will be received, with my lack of beta and english not being my first language and all... So thank you for the kind words! And please do comment if you like the story, I love to hear from you. It certainly gives me an extra push to write.  
> On the story, I debated a bit about if it should stay only in Steve's POV but I honestly tend to write multiple POVs so... not sure if that will be the case with this story, but this chapter is written from Tony's POV.  
> Anyway, enough of me rambling. On to the angst! (and porn... 😉)  
> Oh, and please excuse any mistakes.

Tony Stark had spent half his life being in love with Steve Rogers. They’ve known each other since childhood. Steve’s mother had been a maid of the Starks before her untimely death. Left as an orphan, Steve had soon been taken in by the family and given work at the stables. Before long, Steve had managed to be placed in charge of Lord Stark’s favourite stallions and mares, all due to his diligent nature and patient persistence. Tony, despite being the Lord’s only son and heir, had been allowed to spend time with him, seeing as he didn’t have anyone else near his age in the neighbourhood for him to play with. Of course, they’d been inseparable. Those long lazy summers in the countryside would always be counted amongst the happiest days of Tony’s life. What sorrow filled his heart every time he departed for the Town House where the Starks spent their winters and had to be parted from his dearest friend. What joy blossomed when he was returned to him.

In time, their boyish friendship had turned to adolescent infatuation and then swiftly young, tender and passionate love. A love that was as strong as any feeling Tony had ever felt. A love that unfortunately was never meant to be.

Back then Tony used to be a hopeless romantic, dreaming of graduating from the university and following in Howard’s footsteps while Steve would gallantly make a name for himself in the army.

Well... at least some things had turned out right.

Steve’s utter desperation when faced with Tony’s cruel rejection still haunted Tony to this day. He had never seen such dejection, such utter desolate disappointment and sadness in any man ever before, or since.

Nothing lasted forever as Tony had painfully learned. And, as his father used to say, Stark men were made of iron. They endured.

After Steve left Tony had spent many years acting out against his father. Drinking and gambling away his allowance, not caring at all of the shame he might be bringing to his name. He had been so full of anger and spite against Howard for making him do what he did, for giving him no other choice than to break Steve’s heart ~~and cut out Tony’s as well in the process~~. They’d fought so many times Tony had long lost count.

If there was one thing he did regret about that awful time, it was that he’d let his anger at Howard keep him away from the company for too long, thus blinding him to Obie’s treachery until it was too late.

Well. No point in mourning over something that never came to be.

“Your tea, my Lord?”

Tony startled, wondering how long had Jarvis been in the room without him noticing. He raised a teasing brow at Jarvis’ address. “Better not let anyone else hear you calling me that, my friend.” He smiled accepting the cup, noticing it was one of his personal sets. A delicate porcelain with red and gold flowery details that had been a gift from Pepper for his last birthday. Nothing too extravagant, but very much suited to his tastes. A favourite, no doubt in an elaborate effort of the worried staff to lift his admittedly not stellar as of late mood.

“Mmm... Perfect as always,” he complimented, sipping the tea in delight. When you lose everything, Tony supposed, you learn to enjoy the little things in life. 

Jarvis lingered for a while in the background, tidying this and that, his calm manner not fooling Tony for a second. Tony knew Jarvis was worried for him. He always had thought both him and his wife had a soft spot for him, and they had only grown closer after all the misfortunes Tony had had to endure. He knew Jarvis disapproved of him selling the Manor, just as he had known since the moment he had gotten his titles stripped from him -and the last hope he had of restoring credit to his name disappearing with them-, that he would have no other viable alternative but to do so.

When Tony had announced to the staff that he’d be all but joining them in Steve’s service, Jarvis had been inconsolable on Tony’s behalf. To go from holding a title to be forced to work for a living was considered an abjection of the highest degree to the eyes of polite society. Tony never minded it, not really. Tony losing everything to his creditors would mean leaving them all out of work, no pension or compensation whatsoever. Perhaps the younger ones -like Miss Potts or young Peter- wouldn’t have too much trouble finding employment but Jarvis, Ana -and Beatrice and Tom and Hogan and so many others- wouldn’t. 

No, Tony had done the right thing in selling.

Perhaps the most important detail in his plan had been managing to persuade the right person to purchase it.

Steve.

If Jarvis knew the extent of Tony’s service to the man he’d have an apoplexy.

* * *

“ _He’s ready to see you now, sir,” Tony was told. He had just enough time to straighten his coat before he was being shown into the study where Lord Rogers, Steve, was waiting to receive him._

_He looked identical to the dear man from Tony’s memories and at the same time so different from what Tony remembered. Of course, Tony had seen him once or twice in passing these last few years, after he had just returned from the war, freshly widowed, hailed a hero and swimming in money and titles._

_To Tony Steve had always been handsome. Even as a too skinny stable hand, with bumpy knees and a bright, honest smile. But now his body had changed, had been sculpted into the powerful body of a soldier. There had always been a slight hight difference between them but now Steve seemed to tower over him. Larger than life. Tony’s starving eyes couldn’t get enough of him._

_“Mr Stark, milord,” the maid announced. He heard the wooden doors behind him close and then just like that, they were left alone in the lavish room._

_Tony hesitated, waiting for an invitation to sit. It never came._

_“I have to say, I thought you’d be the last person to ever pay me a visit.”_

_Steve stated, neutral. He was seated cross-legged facing Tony straight on, looking guarded. As if cautious in the face of the enemy._

_Tony shifted in place, feeling uncomfortably small in the eyes of the man. He had to remind himself he’d come here for a reason._

_Trying to muster a smile, Tony started. “ It’s so good to see you after so long, Steve.”_

_“Be done with the formalities, Stark. What do you want,” Steve asked, now visibly irritated._

_Right. Tony hadn’t been expecting anything different. He knew he’d probably have only one shot at this. “I’m sure you already know of my situation,” he started, forcing himself to stand straight, face Steve as an equal. This was already harder than he’d ever thought it could be. “Well, yes of course you do. The thing is, Steve, things are… things are worse than people think.”_

_Steve’s bitter scoff at that spurred him on. “I don’t have anything left anymore, Steve. Not a penny. The last enterprise I invested in, well… let’s just say it failed to come through. The bank... my creditors are pressing me, Steve. If I don’t pay up soon I’ll lose the Manor.” There. He had said it._

_Steve rose to his feet, nothing but a cold glare on his face. “First, I would ask you not to call me by my first name. It suggests a level of familiarity I’m not sure I’m comfortable sharing with you, Mr Stark,” he said. Tony’s shoulders dropped. He guessed he deserved that._

_“And secondly, you say you’ll lose Stark Manor but what I don’t understand is why should that be any concern of mine?”_

_The unemotional way Steve had spoken brought fire back in Tony’s eyes. “Fine then, if that’s how you want to do this, Lord Rogers. The reason I came here today,_ my lord, _is to ask you to purchase the estate for your own. The Manor, the grounds, everything I have, I offer it to you for sale,” he replied, aiming for a strict, business tone. He took out the papers, the draft of the proposal he was here to offer and held it out for Steve to take. The sum written on them was too small to be even a tenth of the estate’s true value._

_Steve, to his credit skimmed through them first, before turning him down none too kindly, as Tony had expected. “Why on earth would I ever want anything that’s yours, Stark?”_

_That hurt more than Tony was ready to admit. But Tony had come too well prepared to let that deter him. “You might not want to be reminded of it, my lord, but I do know you. I know you, and I know that despite this cold exterior you’re presenting, yours is a kind soul. You want me to believe that the man I knew, the man that used to belong to my father’s household, would let his childhood home be laid to waste and its staff turned to the streets all for the sake of spite?”_

_Steve’s nostril’s flared, “You dare!”_

_But Tony wasn’t done yet. “Yes, I dare! Because it is a_ good _deal! I am offering you everything I own, for scraps! I need to sell to someone I trust, Steve, I… This at least I need to do right,” he finished, suddenly worn out ._

_“And what about me, huh, Stark?” Steve forced. “ What do I earn from this but trouble? I already have a town house and had no intention of moving out into the country. You give the estate to me for nothing, yes, but I still will have to pay the mortgage, to manage an estate miles away from…”_

_“The estate can be profitable again, you know it can!” Tony objected. “It used to be, back when we were children. It just needs some work, some funds. You could get your money back in a few years. I could…” he hesitated. “I could work for you. As an estate manager, or a secretary,” he finished, closing his eyes._

_Steve looked taken by surprise. “You’d be willing to work for me?”_

_Tony scoffed, rolling his eyes. “ Is that so hard to believe?”_

_“Yes,” Steve answered back bluntly._

_“I would. If it meant you agreed to the deal then yes, of course I’d work for you. I’d do anything you asked,” Tony stressed, his entire being willing Steve to believe him, to accept._

_Steve looked at him, doubtful. His eyes lingered. “What if… What if I don’t need a secretary?” he said, carefully blank._

_The hungry gleam in Steve’s eyes was not unfamiliar to Tony. Surely Steve didn’t want, he couldn’t mean… Perhaps this wasn’t his Steve after all._

_Or maybe, this was just more proof that it was the Steve Tony knew. Back then, Steve had found Tony attractive, irresistible._

_“It doesn’t suit you to be cruel, Steve. What do you need then, my Lord? A wife? Wasn’t the one already enough for you?” Tony lashed out, hurt, regretting the words almost as soon as he said them._

_Steve face closed off completely. “Get out,” he growled, throwing the almost forgotten papers at Tony’s face, turning to the door._

_“No,” Tony moved quickly grabbing Steve’s arm as he walked away._

_It barely made a difference, as Steve was even stronger than Tony could have ever imagined. “Get out of my sight, Stark,” he growled, trying to shake Tony off him, but Tony was nothing if not insistent._

_“No, please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, Steve...” he pleaded, urgent. He could hear voices behind the closed study doors. Shit, he had no time left._

_“I said get out,” Steve repeated, although this time it lacked in fervour. His eyes were focused somewhere lower than Tony’s own, and Tony knew right then, what he could -and would- offer to Steve that the man wouldn’t be able to refuse._

_“You can have me,” he said, slowly, the meaning behind the words undeniable. Steve stilled, turning to look at Tony, looking startled and disbelieving._

_Someone knocked at the door, asking if everything was in order. Steve, as if only then realizing how intimately close they’ve been locked in their struggle, let Tony go in a startled move, while sending the inquiring servant away with a curt word._

_They stared each other in silence. “Steve?” Tony dared._

_Steve said nothing. He lowered picking Tony’s crumbled proposal up from the floor were it had fallen forgotten during their fight._

_“What makes you think I’d still want to marry you, Stark?” he asked, quiet, looking down at the papers._

_Tony’s heart ached. Nothing, he wanted to say._

_“Not as your husband. Just… you can have me. Take the house, take the estate, take me. As a…”_ mistress _, “as part of the deal,” he finished, detached. Had it really come to this? Had he finally stooped so low he was selling himself, along with the rest of what belonged to him? Worse of all, did it happen in front of the one person whose good opinion Tony had desperately wished to regain?_

_But Tony knew then and there he'd have no other choice, just as he knew Steve was- for all his anger and bile aimed at Tony- still attracted to him._

_After the tragic passing of his wife, Lord Rogers could have had all the lovers and mistresses he ever wanted, but, to this day, no one had ever heard even a rumour of such an affair ever existing. To Tony, it made perfect sense. The Steve he knew wouldn’t ever betray a spouse’s memory by taking on a mistress, giving fodder for gossip amongst society’s highest circles, nor would he take any lover unless he meant to marry them. But he was still a man very much in his prime and what Tony offered meant having a lover without having any other expectations to meet. No remorse, just a business deal. It would surely be too tempting even for Steve to refuse._

_Tony could feel in the lingering silence that he’d won this round. After a few more moments, Steve finally conceded defeat. “Very well,” he said, heading back for his desk, a clear dismissal. “I’ll get back to you later with my final decision.”_

In the days following the arrival of Lord Rogers and his party, life in Stark Manor settled in its new rhythms. During the day, Tony worked as Steve’s personal secretary. He was tasked with answering the Lord’s official correspondence, reviewing the estate's finances -abysmal-, helping to pay off the creditors and working out a plan for the much-needed maintenance of the main house. All in all, he was being kept very busy. 

After a brief proclamation of surprise -which Tony gathered was more of a formality than anything else - the visiting party took to Tony’s new position in the household as if it were a most natural progress of events.

Steve was proving to be a kind master, not that Tony had any doubts of his character. It was after all the reason he had pursued this so adamantly. But he did have some reservations where it concerned Steve’s dealing with him in particular, if their shared history was to be taken under consideration. But Steve seemed able to compartmentalise and he’d been nothing but courteous -if a bit distant- when instructing Tony in their everyday dealings.

While Tony felt strangely settled in his role as Steve’s secretary in the day, the same couldn't be said for his role as Steve’s mistress in the night.

It was an unspoken agreement ever since that first time, that they’d meet every night in the safety of Steve's rooms, after the rest of the household had settled in for the night. Tony would always be the one to come to Steve, knocking discretely on the door, in the off case the Lord Rogers wasn’t alone in his rooms.

It was in those rooms, and those rooms only, under the frailest candlelight and the cover of darkness, that Steve touched Tony as anything more than an acquaintance.

Tony was by no means a blushing maiden, but each night with Steve felt like being touched for the very first time. It was both agony and elation being able to hold Steve in his arms, to be allowed to shower him with the passion he had held for so long, even though he fully realized that while this meant the world to Tony it meant nothing to Steve.

It was so easy for Tony to forget in the throes of ecstasy that for Steve, this was all just sating his carnal desires. Such struggle for him not to imagine there was more to Steve’s passion than pure lust.

In his dreams though… In Tony's dreams, Steve was forgiving and not demanding. He was understanding, he was still in love with Tony, he had forgotten all the suffering Tony had brought him. In Tony’s dreams there had never been a Lady Rogers, because Steve could never have loved anyone else after loving him.

Tony was aware he was too old to be clinging to dreams and fantasies. This would have to do. He’d always been willing to give everything up for Steve’s sake, so he would give him this as well. Tony didn’t really mind. He would gladly be Steve’s mistress, his _whore_. What was it but another title for him to bear? 

The people who loved him, who cared for him, Jarvis, Pepper, Rhodey, they all knew who Tony really was. That was all that mattered where his reputation was concerned.

Things were getting better. After that first night, when Tony’s quiet resolve and ever-burning desire for Steve had been the only things keeping him from completely falling apart when faced with Steve’s icy words and his endless hunger for Tony’s body, Steve had become calmer, almost careful in his treatment of Tony. If Tony was one to fool himself he would say Steve was starting to forget his resentment for him, his love for his lost wife, and was once more developing those dangerous feelings he had long past left behind. 

But, alas, it was not the case. As Steve himself had said that first night, this was just him taking what he’d paid for.

“So… this is where you’ve been hiding all afternoon, Mr Stark,” Barnes asked, startling him out of his book. Tony must have lost time, if he’d been absent long enough for it to be noticed. Ever since he was a boy he had found refuge in the library and its vast collection of literature. Of course, back then the only thing Tony wanted to avoid was his father’s lectures.

He regarded the man before him. Sir James Buchanan Barnes was a difficult man to work out. For one, he had never seemed to warm up to Tony. One could have taken that as a sign of contempt for Tony’s now fallen position in the eyes of society. But Tony knew that Barnes, much like Steve, had actually come from a humble background.

Tony secretly feared that Barnes’ coldness was due to him being privy to more of Steve’s secrets than the rest of their group of friends. It made him wonder which of Steve’s and his secrets Barnes knew. Was it the past? Or the even more humiliating present? His always careful -almost clinical- inspection of Tony every morning at the breakfast table certainly was telling enough. The thought of Steve discussing such things with Barnes… well, it wasn’t a pleasurable thought, that was certain.

“Good god, sir! You certainly know how to sneak up on someone. I was just reading. Food for the mind as well as the soul, I’ve been told, although I’ve also been told I am soulless, so…” he replied, feigning levity. What business was it of Barnes what Tony did in his spare time? 

“How can I be of assistance to you, Sir Barnes?” he asked again, but Barnes didn’t rise to the bait. It was unnerving the way the man simply stood in the doorway, looking at him calculating. “May I offer you a drink perhaps? We have the most enticing collection of brandy as I am sure you already know. Truly, I could never find it in myself to be parted from it, no matter how much one could make from such a sale. Nothing beats a good spirit, I always say. Maybe I could have Jarvis bring a glass up for you?”

Barnes shook his head, walking into the room, door silently closing behind him. “No need. I was just looking for a book,” he drawled, and Tony had to resist an eye roll at the obvious lie. “I didn’t expect to find you here. Do you have any suggestions for me?”

“Of what sir? Places you should expect to find me?” Tony drawled. Two could play at this game.

Barnes smirked. “No. A book, Stark. After all, this used to be your collection. I would expect you are the best person to ask.” 

Tony had a strong feeling he was being made fun off. It wasn’t a nice feeling, but he swallowed it down, wanting this conversation to be over.

“True. Let us see…” he looked around, his eyes landing on some of his favourites hoarded in a pile on a nearby sofa. He picked a couple up, offering them to the other man.

“Maybe Robinson Crusoe? If you like a novel? Or maybe something different. The Age of Reason, by Thomas Pain?”

“Hmm… perhaps,” Barnes muttered, accepting them, then lazily perusing. “What have you been reading?” he asked, not looking up.

“Utopia,” Tony whispered, tone tired. Today had been a tiring day and lately, sleep hadn’t consciously been a part of his schedule.

Barnes seemed to catch the change of tone. He cleared his throat. “Yes… well. The Age of Reason seems like a fine choice,” he said, closing the matter.

“Glad I could be of assistance.” 

Tony gathered his book, intent to finish it up in his own rooms, when found himself once again the focus Barnes’ attention.

“Mr Stark…” He said, looking at Tony, speculating.

“Yes?” 

“Lord Rogers was telling me this morning how pleased he’s been with your performance.”

The book fell promptly from Tony’s hands. He hurried to pick it back, feeling his face burning. _Check mate for Barnes, it is then_ , he thought.

As soon as he was up he made his excuses and left, dreading to meet Barnes’ eyes.

He was still reeling from the conversation he had with Barnes and the implications behind it when he realized the time had come for his nightly duties. He’d skipped dinner, feigning a headache, but didn’t expect Steve to be fooled by the feeble excuse for long. So, he got dressed down to his nightshirt and carefully prepped himself, just like he’d been doing every night since the first one.

The one positive aspect of Steve’s insatiable desire of Tony’s body, was that each passing night it was getting easier for him to prepare himself for Steve’s use. His muscles had relaxed and his hole stretched wider every time. Tony had felt a burning shame the first time he’d realised it.

He finished quickly, and entered the lord’s study ready to knock for entrance at the main bedroom, only to find to his surprise that Steve was there, in the study.

Seated behind the desk probably finishing the day’s work, Tony mused. He looked up when Tony entered, as if surprised to see him. He was clad just in a silk robe and some loose pants.

“I thought you were unwell,” he stated, no accusation behind the words. He was unguarded maybe for the first time since this tumultuous affair of theirs had started, Tony realized.

At that moment he was so much like the guileless boy of Tony’s youth that Tony found himself in a daze. His legs moved as if on their own taking him closer to Steve. When he was finally in front of him he looked in his eyes, not uttering a word, fearing the spell might be broken and the cold, distant Steve will reappear. He fell to his knees.

Tony lifted a hand, cursing at it for shacking, and reverently touched the inside of Steve’s thighs. Steve was hot as fire under his fingertips. Carefully he grazed over Steve’s shaft, finding it already hard. He caressed the member over fabric and then tugged it out, mouth-watering at the sight, the proof of Steve’s desire of him. He closed his lips around the swollen head, hearing Steve’s startled cry above him. He rejoiced at tasting the bitter drops on his tongue before he swallowed deeper, hungry for more. Steve moaned, a sinful sound that had Tony struggling to look up to him once again. He was rewarded with the glorious sight of Steve looking down at him in wonder, eyes wide and mouth open in a silent o. What a spectacle they must present at that moment.

He sucked hard, moved his tongue around, exploring the veins on the side of Steve’s cock then drew back, bringing the tip of the cock almost to his lips and then swallowed it once more to the hilt. He buried his nose in Steve’s soft pubic hair, feeling divinely dirty, revelling in it. He couldn't stop this for the life of him.

It went on for a while, Tony feeling in all his senses the presence of Steve. On him, around him, inside him. At some point, he reached down to his own neglected cock stroking it to the rhythm of his and Steve’s lovemaking.

He felt a hand grabbing at the back of his head. Relaxing his mouth, he let himself be completely at Steve’s control just as Steve started bucking his hips, fucking his dick deeper into Tony’s willing throat.

The warmth of Steve’s release inside him was what finally brought Tony over the edge. He came, softly whining around the still twitching cock in his mouth.

Minutes passed and they were both still panting, Steve seated on his chair with Tony kneeling between his parted legs, resting a tired forehead on Steve’s inner thigh. Tony wished he didn’t ever have to move. He dosed off.

He yelped in surprise at the feel of hands grabbing under his armpits and then he was being lifted on the air, Steve getting both of them up in one smooth motion. Dazed, Tony held on to him for dear life as Steve used their momentum to turn and then unceremoniously drop Tony onto the writing desk. Objects went flying to the floor and Tony distantly thought someone must have heard the commotion, but couldn’t really find it in him to care. He ended up on his back, legs hanging over Steve’s shoulders, nightshirt drawn up, barely covering his sensitive nipples as Steve slowly fucked inside him.

That night they never made it to the master bedroom. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has been having some trouble concentrating. Neither his friends nor Tony are being any help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, baby! And this time with two betas now no less! So let me just thank my amazing betas EachPeachPearPlum and Lacrimula_Falsa for helping me out with this chapter. Love you guys ❤️
> 
> Anyway, on to the angst, my loves!

“.. At the state of their holdings in comparison. Does this satisfy, my lord? My lord?”

Steve forced himself to focus on Tony’s face, realising he must have addressed him more than once.

“Erm, yes, of course,” he replied curtly, annoyed with himself. All morning he had been distracted by the most maddening strip of bare skin peeking through Tony’s elaborately tied cravat, and he’d barely been able to concentrate enough to get minimal work done. Tony looked at him curiously but clearly opted not to pry further.

Deciding he needed a reprieve from the torment Tony was -probably inadvertently- causing him, Steve walked across the room to gaze through the high glass windows down at the gardens.

He could hear the distant voices of his friends coming from outside, the sound of their banter and laughter easily climbing up the high walls of the manor, and Steve, envious of their carefree merriment, wished that he could join them.

Suddenly feeling spontaneous, he turned to the room again. “That’s enough work for now, Stark,” he said, finding Tony looking at him, bewildered.

“But we have barely begun!” Tony sputtered in protest.

“We will join the others in taking a walk around the grounds. Come,” Steve stated with finality before heading outside, Tony rushing behind him.

Outside was indeed infinitely better, Steve mused as he walked, satisfied. The fresh breeze was already lifting his sullen mood, nature doing its best to fill his senses with the sweet scents of flowers, the gentle rustling of trees and the warmth of sunbeams caressing his skin. It was a good enough distraction from the unending temptation that Tony in closed spaces -and even shorter distances- presented.

They found Lady Natalia, Mr Banner and Sir Barton nearby, playing catch with Tony’s -well, _Steve’s_ now, really- hunting dogs while the young lad charged with their care watched from the sidelines, occasionally bursting into laughter when one of the dogs would playfully bite at Sir Barton’s backside.

“Oh, for goodness sake, Peter, would you get those beasts in hand before they feast on our guests?” he heard Tony exclaim, teasing, if a little exasperated.

To his credit, the boy, Peter, looked sheepish before he rushed to gather the offending animals up. Tony regarded the boy fondly, a rare true smile on his face. Something inside Steve panged at the sight.

“Ah, Steve, Mr Stark!” Clint exclaimed, coming closer and looking grateful for Tony’s intervention.

“Go feed them, you daft boy,” Tony shooed. The boy grinned back while picking up the youngest of the dogs. “Yes, Mr Stark! My lord,” he finished, bowing clumsily to Steve before walking away with the rest of his pack.

“Well, if it isn’t Steve Rogers, out of his gloomy tower at last!” Lady Natalia teased, hooking her delicate arm though his own. She looked lovely as always, in a rather simple -though never plain- white muslin dress. They all gathered around him, and soon went on with their stroll, admiring the gardens. It was clear that, even in the few weeks since they had arrived there, much work had been done in order to get them into a better state. Steve had approved of taking on another gardener and it definitely showed.

Bruce and Clint quickly got absorbed in a friendly debate about the morals of hunting for sport and soon fell behind, while Steve, Lady Natalia and Tony went on ahead, with Tony hovering near the pair of friends as if reluctant to be there. Steve resisted the urge to feel bad about excluding the man. Still, Tony, true to his ever-social nature, didn’t fail to speak up here and there, adding to his and Lady Natalia’s conversation.

“Is it true what they say, my lady? You spent a summer in Russia at the Czar’s invitation?” Tony asked the lady, still obviously the terrible gossip Steve remembered him being.

“A lady never tells,” Natalia answered cryptically, lifting her eyebrows while throwing Tony a suggestive look that said a great deal all by itself. They both burst into giggles, and Steve’s mouth tightened in displeasure. This was far from proper.

They had wandered off the path towards a small patch of woods, seeking cover from the midday heat under the cool shade of the trees.

“You, my lady, are a menace,” Tony said taking the lady’s delicate hand in his own and bringing it to his lips with a flourish.

Steve’s fists clenched, remembering the taste of those very lips on his own just hours ago. What was Stark doing, flirting shamelessly with a lady of Steve’s acquaintance? And in front of an audience, no less?

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat, forcing the two apart. He glared at the bewilderment written on both of their faces.

Natalia, no doubt picking up on Steve’s discomfort, tried to cover the awkward silence. “Do not for a moment forget it, Mr Stark,” she said playfully. “We womenfolk can be twice as cunning as a man, and far more dangerous too. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about women using their special talents to accomplish nefarious goals. We shall soon rule the world!” she exclaimed happily, leaning on a nearby tree for rest. 

Steve could see Tony’s mouth twitching in mirth, his gaze following her body with rapt interest. It was the final straw for Steve.

“Perhaps you should be heading back to the house, Mr Stark. Notify Jarvis that we’ll likely be late for lunch. And see to it that Peter has my horse ready for this afternoon, will you? I think I want to go for a ride,” he all but ordered.

Stark stiffened, nostrils flaring momentarily. Narrowing his eyes, he opened his mouth as if he meant to respond but quickly decided differently. He lowered his gaze, brows furrowed.

“As you wish, my lord,” he replied coldly and turned away, heading back down the trail they’d just come from.

Steve’s eyes followed his retrieving form until he could no longer see him.

“Ouch!” he gasped, rubbing at his left arm where Lady Natalia had just landed a rather forceful slap. She looked quite irritated with him.

“What was that for, Steve?” she hissed. “I swear, you are such a child sometimes. Did you have to be so rude to him?”

“He should be reminded of his place,” Steve answered, though he had an annoying feeling that she was right.

Her eyes widened in shock. “Do you actually listen to yourself? Who are you and what have you done to my friend Steve Rogers? He would never have stood for such behaviour!” she asked, her voice devoid of mirth.

“He was being unseemly,” Steve defended weakly. He was regretting having the idea of taking a walk after all. Why was it that he was always his worst self when it came to dealing with Tony Stark?

Natalia huffed in disbelief. “Unseemly? Ha! You are unbelievable.”

Tony avoided him all afternoon. It made Steve even more peeved than he wanted to admit.

It was true that back in the woods he may have over-reacted, just a _little_ , but, in his defence, Tony had deliberately been a nuisance.

As per usual.

_“Watch out!” a voice called out and Steve had but a moment to turn before his face was covered in stinking dung. He was so surprised that he ended up falling on his back and straight onto a pile of hay._

_He could hear teasing giggles from not far. Looking up, he saw none other than young master Anthony standing before him, holding a shovel almost twice his size in one hand while he pointed at Steve’s fallen form with the other._

_“Oh, you should have seen your face! That was spectacular! And that fall? Woof! Brilliant,” he exclaimed, smiling wide._

_Steve frowned. His first instinct was to lash out to the boy for being a bully, take that smirk off his face. But he had been working only a week at the stables, and he’d been living on the Starks' estate for less than a year. He knew full well what would befall him if he dared to pay the young Stark back in kind._

_Instead, he got to his feet and calmly brushed the manure from his hair and face, then made to leave the stall and return to his work._

_“Hey, where are you going? Hey, wait! I didn’t dismiss you!” the other boy exclaimed behind him._

_“Did you want a horse ready, milord?” Steve turned and asked in a monotone._

_The young Stark frowned, tilting his head. The shovel in his hand stooped with it in mimicry._

_“You are sad,” he stated, sounding almost curious._

And you are a genius _, Steve thought._ _“Milord?” he asked, waiting for an order or a dismissal._

_“Your mother was_ _Miss Sarah…” Stark said, eyes wide as if only now realising something. “Jarvis said she had passed away. That she’s never coming back,” he finished seriously._

_Steve willed himself not to react. He shut his eyes, feeling the sting of tears behind his closed eyelids. It wasn’t as if the young master was saying something he didn’t know_ _, or even that he was taunting him; on the contrary, he had sounded almost contrite. But Steve still had lost his mother not a fortnight ago._

_Suddenly, a warm palm was pressed to his cheek. He opened his eyes, surprised to see the young master had come closer, his eyes searching Steve’s face, clearly concerned._

_“Do you have no one left?” he asked innocently. Steve shook his head, this time unable to stop his tears from spilling. He had_ no one _left._

_“I’m sorry I threw dung at your face,” Master Anthony said, looking at him honestly, and then he was throwing his arms around Steve enveloping him in a tight hug._

_Steve was too stunned to react._

_“I’m sorry you lost your mother,” he heard him whisper. Steve’s hands slowly wound around the other boy in return. They held each other for a few beats before reluctantly letting go._

_Steve felt lighter than he had ever felt since the awful night that had taken his mother away. Master Anthony was smiling at him shyly from under his lashes._

_“I’m Tony,” he said, holding a hand out. Of course, Steve already knew who he was. Feeling brave, he took it, shaking it in a firm handshake, and both boys ignored the fact they had been locked in a tearful hug not a minute ago._

_“Steve Rogers,” he replied._

* * *

“Your win, yet again,” Bucky exclaimed, laying the white king down to Steve’s bishop.

“That’s what you get when you’re not really concentrating on the game, Buck,” Steve teased, getting up to pour himself and Bucky a brandy. He handed the glass to the other man, nodding in salute.

Bucky accepted it silently, seeming deep in thought. Steve had noticed him being uncharacteristically quiet as of late. He frowned. “Is something wrong, Bucky? I swear I haven’t seen you smile since we arrived here.”

Bucky took a gulp of his drink. “No, nothing’s wrong,” he denied, not convincing Steve for a second.

“Well, you are hiding something from me, I can tell that much,” Steve persisted, getting a little worried.

He heard Bucky murmur something under his breath before he turned to look at Steve, gaze speculating. Steve suddenly felt unnerved.

“What do you think Peggy would say if she were here, Steve?” he asked out of nowhere.

Steve blanked. “I beg your pardon? I don’t know what you mean…”

“Oh you know exactly what I mean,” Bucky said evenly, eyes never leaving Steve’s face.

“Buck…” Steve started but was interrupted.

“...Because I have the distinct impression that she would greatly disapprove of this…thing you have going on with Stark,” he finished, lifting a daring brow at Steve.

“Watch it,” Steve warned.

Bucky had clearly decided he was going to speak his mind though, because he persisted despite the warning. “He has always been your weakness, Steve! I’ve known you for, what, nearly ten years now? All this time, you never did manage to move past him. I know he’s caused you a lot of hurt, Steve. But _this_ , it can’t be helping, for either of you! It’s not healthy,” he finished, panting. He was pleading with Steve to understand him.

“You are way out of line here, Bucky,” Steve told him, feeling numb. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had those exact thoughts himself before. He had had reservations about this entire affair from the start but Steve had -in a rare display of the weaker side of his normally virtuous character- found himself unable to do the proper thing.

“Am I, though?” Bucky asked. “And here I thought we’ve promised to stand by each other ‘till the end of the line.” 

Steve lowered his head.

“You are your own man, Steve. I pray to God you know what you’re doing.” He got up, walking up to Steve to place a conciliatory hand on his shoulder. A moment later he withdrew.

“Natalia wishes to return to town before her cousin Lady Dimitrova leaves for the continent, and the rest of us have decided to head back with her. You should stay here and continue to work on the house,” he stated, somewhat calmer.

It was news to Steve that his friends were leaving him before the prearranged time. He swallowed stiffly, nodding at Bucky in agreement, all the while reeling at the thought of being left behind in Stark Manor, with only Tony and the rest of the staff for company.

“Be kind, Steve,” Bucky said before he left.

* * *

“You’re so quiet when we’re like this,” Steve whispered. They were lying in bed, Tony in Steve’s arms, exhausted from their vigorous lovemaking, the soft warmth of the comforter surrounding their sweaty, bare bodies. The candles had long gone out and Steve could barely make out Tony’s delicate features in the almost complete darkness. It made him bolder, braver. Made him almost forget where they were, how they’d gotten there.

It took Tony a moment to answer. He sounded relaxed, content and almost asleep. “Hmm… What do you want me to say?” His voice was breathy, quiet, a siren song for Steve’s ears alone.

Steve’s throat closed up. Unable to resist, he slowly moved his hands up and down to gently caress at Tony’s side. His cock bravely stirred once again, pressing close to the heat of Tony’s body.

Tony turned in Steve’s arms in response, bringing his head up to answer Steve’s call with a tired, sloppy kiss. Steve took a deep breath through his nose, loving the gift of Tony’s enticing scent.

“You’re tired,” Steve stated when he felt Tony’s head once more droop against his shoulder. He felt him shake his head, letting out a sound that Steve supposed was meant to be in protest.

After a moment, Tony sighed. “I should head back to my rooms,” he said, voice devoid of any previously hinted at emotion.

How could one man be so tempting and yet so infuriating at the same time? Steve’s arms tightened around him, not willing to let go. 

“Stay,” he invited, pressing Tony even further to him.

“I’m really not up for anything more, Steve,” Tony began reluctantly, but Steve beat him to it.

“Just to sleep,” he said, bringing one of his hands up to cup at the back of Tony’s head and draw him close. Even in the dark, he could feel Tony’s questioning gaze burning his skin.

Finally, Tony seemed to accept the offer, settling carefully over Steve’s willing body once more. It wasn’t long before his breathing slowed and he drifted off to sleep, leaving Steve helpless to resist placing a lingering kiss on his messy dark hair.

* * *

The deafening bang had the flock fly in the air in a million different directions. Steve lowered his shotgun, satisfied to see a duck lying on the far riverbank, its feathers scattered around like a morbid halo. The dogs barked and made course for the fallen prey.

“An excellent shot, my lord,” the man, Hogan, said, panting as he made his way to Steve. He was holding the rest of their game, another duck and a pheasant, as well as the rest of Steve’s gear. Steve hummed in agreement.

The faint sound of a bell tolling could be heard from the direction of the nearest village. It was noon then, Steve surmised. He looked back towards the other side of the river, where the elegant silhouette of Stark Manor could be seen at a distance. They should start heading back if they wanted to make it there by lunch.

On their way back, Steve tried to engage Mr Hogan in small talk. He was eager to get to know the members of his new household better, now that he had no more guests to entertain. Mr Jarvis and his wife he already knew from his time in the Starks’ service, but the rest he was unfamiliar with.

After spending a month now living amongst them, he had come to realise that they all had an uncommonly strong attachment to their former master. Then again, while such a thing would be considered uncommon for the rest of the nobility, Tony had always spent his time amongst the servants.

Steve hadn’t forgotten that; on the contrary, after spending more time with him, Steve couldn’t help but be constantly reminded of their time together in the distant past. It was as if a candle had been lit and now shone upon the darkest corners of his soul.

Steve decidedly avoided thinking about the Tony Stark of his past, who was ridiculous and smart, and charming and warm-hearted. Well… most of the time. Steve had struggled for years to move past the events of that day, the day that marked the real end of his youth. He had gone to Tony that day a green boy full of hope, and had left him a man, with his heart shattered to pieces.

The staff loved their former master, it was plain for all to see. It had come as a bit of a surprise to Steve at first. For the infamous Tony Stark, a philandering dandy that had been in one precarious situation after another for the better part of a decade, to inspire such devotion in the people so close to him, surely that must mean something.

The housekeeper, Miss Potts, was another example. No one could doubt her fondness for Tony if they caught the two of them bantering as they were prone to do. At first, Steve had been afraid Tony had been overly familiar with his teasing tone, that somehow he had been more involved with the young lady than was proper, her being a woman beautiful enough to rival even Lady Natalia in looks and manners. Very soon, though, he had realised their relationship was more akin to that of siblings than lovers.

Of course, Steve had conveniently chosen to ignore the fact that he was guilty of the same impropriety where Tony was concerned. He found comfort in the knowledge Tony Stark was anything but helpless. For God’s sake, Tony had been the one to propose this whole thing to Steve! Steve knew enough of society to not be foolish enough to think that this was Tony’s first time using his body as a means to an end. In the right hands, trading in desire was a weapon more powerful than any other on market. It had brought down empires and built kingdoms.

Hogan was a simple man, kind but not overly smart, though very dedicated to his work. He had been a coachman first, but after the master got into heavy debt and had been forced to let some of the staff go, he’d had begun to work as a gardener and a gamekeeper too, in order to help with the upkeep of the estate. He was happy to prattle as they made their way up the hillside.

Steve’s thoughts were already drifting to the latest letter he’d gotten from one of his associates when something Hogan mentioned caught his interest. “I’m sorry, would you repeat that?” he asked.

“What, about Betty, the scullery maid?” he stumbled, cheeks flaming.

“No, dear man, that part where you said something about Lord Howard’s old business partner? Stane, was it?”

“Oh, yes, my lord! Well, it’s only that he departed so suddenly that he left many of his belongings back in the house! After some time the master said we could take whatever we wanted. I got my finest shirt that day!” he exclaimed proudly. “I never trusted the man, I tell ya. How _convenient_ , disappearing but a week before all that fuss with the company started! Poor master Tony was fed to the wolves while Stane’s name was barely mentioned at all. Vultures…” he finished angrily.

Steve frowned, his mind going over what he just heard. It was odd, but Steve couldn’t recall Stane’s name being mentioned at all during the entire business of the Stark Company’s bankruptcy. It was even stranger when he remembered that Mr Stane, a tall, proud-looking sort of man, had actually helped build the company from the ground up and had been a stockholder and business partner to both Lord Starks.

In truth Steve, back then, had thought Stane dead long ago, like Lord Howard, so to learn otherwise was indeed disturbing news.

Why would the man leave in such a hurry, Steve wondered. And where to? It was too convenient an escape, if that were actually the case. Was the man really gone? Was he even _alive_?

Troubled by the track his thoughts were taking him down, Steve opted to take his next meal alone, leaving Tony to his own devices. He next saw the man when he met him in the library. They chatted absently about work, Tony giving him worried looks, but not commenting on anything. 

Steve withdrew to his rooms earlier than usual. Locking himself in his study, Steve sat at the desk, having made up his mind to make his own inquiries on the matter. He knew exactly who to contact, too.

He picked a pen and began to write.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was betaed by the amazing EachPeachPearPlum and the spectacular Lacrimula_Falsa.

“I can’t find Mr Johnson’s latest report,” Tony said, apparently to no avail, since Steve was too absorbed in whatever he was reading to respond to him.

Well. How was Tony supposed to do his work as Steve’s secretary if Steve didn’t pay any attention to him?

Irritated, Tony got up and headed for the desk. He started going through the rest of the papers that were randomly piled there, all the while keeping himself from starting on a string of expletives that, if said aloud, would definitely escalate the situation.

Steve was reading a letter, Tony noticed, taking a moment to look up from his -futile- search. It was not a long one, that was obvious, since it was only a single page that had been folded on itself, and what seemed like a scarce few words written upon it.

Tony’s interest was piqued.

“What _are_ you reading, there, my lord?” he asked, curious, before he could check himself.

Steve’s eyes shot up, as if only then realising that Tony had left his previous spot to come closer to him.

“What on earth are you doing, Stark!” he said, crumpling the letter hastily into a ball. “Have you not heard of the concept of privacy?” he finished, irritated.

Tony’s eyes widened, not expecting that kind of reaction from the other man. He felt hurt at Steve’s harsh words while his curiosity only grew greater. What _was_ written on that letter?

A petty voice on the back of his head told him that perhaps Steve was reading a letter from a lover.

* * *

“It’s only that, well…yes, I will miss Ned a great deal, but this is such a great opportunity for him, it’s all he’s talked about the last week and I know how tight things have been with money lately for him, but he’s…” Peter slowed, looking at Tony with pleading eyes as he finished saddling the mare. “He’s my best friend, Mr Stark! I’ll never see him if they move away,” he said, forlorn.

Tony could only sympathise with the boy.

“Look, who says you’re going to lose touch? That’s why we have mail, Peter!” He tried to cheer him up.

“I know, but it’s just not the same,” Peter insisted. Tony could only pat his shoulder in sympathy.

Peter hanged his head. “I’m sorry for bothering you with this, Mr Stark. I know I’m being a nuisance. Betsy says I need to be more of a man. She says that real men wouldn’t get sad over silly things like their best friends moving away. Life moves on, she says.”

Tony sighed, looking at the boy considering.

“You tell Betsy to mind her own business, alright?”

Tony could see himself in Peter, he always had. He was as impulsive as Tony had been at his age, and just as bright. They even looked like they could be related too, with their dark curly hair and almond-shaped eyes. It had caused quite a bit of a gossip at the village some years ago, when Peter had first arrived with his aunt. People had claimed he was Tony’s illegitimate heir, invited there to be raised as a Stark. Thankfully, May had cleared things up quickly.

It was unfortunate that Tony no longer had the means to help the boy get further in life than being a servant. But Tony had long ago run out of money to spend on things like funding university tuition for his orphaned servants, no matter how much he liked Peter.

But advice? That, Tony could give him.

“Peter, look at me. When I was your age, I had a friend like your Ned. He was my best friend in the world. I used to spend all my free time with him. Unfortunately, though, we…drifted apart. There are few things I regret more in my life than losing that friend, Peter.”

_The way in which it happened being first amongst them._

He pressed on. “My point is this: don’t let Betsy or anyone else tell you what you should feel. And don’t _ever_ let your best friend walk out of your life,” he finished with an encouraging nod.

“Of course. You’re right, Mr Stark!” Peter said, finally smiling. “We’ll find a way to keep in touch, me and Ned. _Daily letters_!” he exclaimed, eyes widening in realisation.

“See? Now you’re thinking. Ha, I’m always right, boy,” Tony laughed, bringing his hand to playfully flick at Peter’s nose. It left them both giggling, mood lighter than before.

They turned at the sound of a throat being cleared, to see Lord Rogers - _said lost friend of Tony’s_ \- regard them calmly, apparently having just arrived, ready for the ride.

Tony’s heart dropped. How long had Steve been standing there? Could he possibly have heard what Tony said?

“If you’re done distracting the stable hand, Mr Stark…?” He asked, rhetorically.

“It’s not his fault, my lord! My aunt May always says I’m too distracting!” Peter spluttered, hurrying to get to his work.

* * *

“Will you slow down for a second!” Tony cried, holding the reins tighter while he struggled to catch up with Steve. He swore when he heard the other man laugh and urged his mare to go even faster, though he knew she was no match for Steve’s stallion.

He managed to reach Steve at the top of the hill, where they both stopped and admired the tranquil scenery unfolding before them.

These woods were some of the finest in the land, and had been one of the reasons Tony’s father had decided he would build the manor there in the first place.

It was vastly different to the ancestral property of the Starks, which had ultimately become the grounds for his father’s weapons factory. Tony had only been there twice in his entire life. A land much further south, barren and grey, where the only thing growing was industry. Now, of course, it belonged to someone else.

Through the gaps in the forest, he could just make out the ruins of the old chapel that marked the property’s west border. Tony loved that small clearing. He used to spend hours playing amongst those very ruins as a child, most of them with Steve as his companion.

“I’m surprised…” Steve remarked, breaking the silence. “I seem to recall you were a better rider than me back then, Mr Stark,” he said, smirking.

“Yes, well, I seem to recall you were a lot smaller back then, my lord,” Tony shot back.

Steve’s eyes sparkled with amusement. A rare smile added to the man’s handsome features to the point of completely distracting Tony.

“I,” he began, unable to form words. Steve raised a -rather dashing, if somewhat questioning- brow at him.

Tony cleared his throat, flushed.

“Nothing, my lord,” he dismissed, embarrassed. He tried to regain his composure. It was decidedly unfair that Steve had such an effect on him, while he seemed completely calm and in control when Tony was around. Well. Mostly.

Steve was still looking at Tony in silent contemplation. After a moment, he asked, softer.

“When you came to me in town,” he said, his voice hesitating as if unsure whether he was allowed to mention _that_ day. Tony blushed deeply. “You spoke of things being even _worse_ than people thought.”

He paused and turned to face him. “Did you only mean your finances, Tony?”

It took a moment for it to register. Did Steve just…?

Tony’s ears were ringing, his mind reeling to the point of barely being able to grasp the rest of what Steve had said.

Steve had…he had called him _by his name._

He had said _Tony_.

Tony willed himself not to be overcome with emotion. But, oh, was it hard to manage. He had almost lost all hope of it ever happening. He had spent hours thinking about how wrong it felt to only hear Steve address him as Mr Stark, or -even worse- just _Stark_. Steve, who had, even as a child, always called him by his given name, always Tony, and never sir or Master Anthony.

It had taken Steve almost two months of them being in each other’s company again -two months of them working together, of them _sleeping_ together- before he finally called Tony by his name again.

Tony couldn’t help but feel hopeful for what it could mean.

Maybe Steve was finally finding it in him to forgive Tony? Maybe he was leaving behind the picture he’d constructed of Tony as an amoral libertine, unworthy of the respect of men better than him, and was willing to get to know him once more?

Then, the rest of Steve’s words registered and Tony frowned. What was Steve implying by asking if he only meant _finances_?

Did he think Tony was in trouble with the law, still? Was he accusing Tony of some other mischief? No, no, Steve had sounded almost contrite, not accusing.

He raked his mind trying to figure out what it could be.

Had he ever let anything slip about what had happened in his life these last few years? Well… _other_ than what was already common knowledge, that was.

He really couldn’t come up with anything. He and Steve rarely talked about anything other than their work during the day, and as for the nights…well, there wasn’t really room for talking then…

Steve couldn’t possibly know anything about Stane, surely. How would he ever learn about the man? Though, to be fair, Steve had known of Stane’s existence as well as his involvement in the company.

Perhaps…no. Tony shifted uncomfortably. Tiberius wouldn’t dare say anything against him, not after everything that had happened the last time Tony had met him. But still, could it be that, somehow, the unfortunate affair with Lord Stone had become public knowledge?

Steve and Tiberius were bound to move in similar circles, after all, given their positions and similar age.

Tony answered him carefully, conscious of how his voice might waver and betray him.

“Other than me losing everything I’ve ever had, you mean, my lord? What could possibly be worse than that?” he asked, bitterness colouring his voice.

_Other than my godfather framing me for treason, you mean?_

_Other than utterly destroying the legacy of my father’s name?_

_Other than my heart being_ _trampled on again and again while society laughed?_

_What could possibly be worse than that, Steve?_

Mood sober once again, Tony felt haunted by things he could never speak of.

“We should head back before you catch a cold,” Steve said, trying for a change in the subject.

The days had started growing colder, and, now that Tony’s attention had been drawn to it, the familiar chill of autumn was creeping up his limbs. The sky above them looked ready to open up.

Steve, of course, had dressed accordingly, ever the military man, while Tony had only donned a light riding coat on his way to the stables, perhaps subconsciously refusing to leave behind the summer for the dreary autumn, just like his stubborn heart refused to let Steve go, while Steve had long ago grown out of his love with him.

Tony nodded, happy to be done with the uncomfortable conversation. They turned around, starting a slow trot back towards home. They had nearly made it to the stables when the rain finally caught up with them and it started pouring hard enough to force them to make a run for it.

When they got to the stables, they were met by an ever-diligent Peter carrying fresh towels, no doubt having guessed they’d both need to be patted dry after getting caught in the rain.

Peter headed first to Steve, taking his horse after the man had dismounted, while Tony waited patiently for his turn. To Tony’s surprise, though, as soon as Steve’s feet touched the ground he started moving towards him. He held his arms out in a familiar gesture that had Tony flummoxed.

“Well?” Steve said, sounding smug, of all things. It made Tony huff in indignation. He was no lady, needing help to dismount. Then again, if that was how Steve had decided to treat him then fine. Tony was willing to accept the offer just out of spite.

He leaned forward, swinging his right leg over the mare’s haunches and then used the momentum to push himself away with the left one. He felt Steve’s hands on his waist steadying him, helping carry his weight and absorb the shock of his landing. His face burned as Steve’s larger form pressed close to his back, almost touching, for the first time outside of a bedroom.

He cleared his throat, turning his attention to Peter to give the boy the reins and exchange them for a dry towel. He pretended he didn’t notice the unwavering interest with which Peter was watching his and Steve’s interactions.

Everyone in his staff was a _terrible_ gossip.

“Yes, well. Thank you,” he said finally to Steve, clearing his throat, flustered.

* * *

Inside the house, Tony went straight to his rooms in order to change before he ended up coming down with a cold after all. He resurfaced in time for supper, which was served in one of the private dining rooms of the manor, since these days it was only himself and Steve at the table. 

Steve was already there, waiting for him, and the meal had all but been served.

“Sorry I’m late, my lord,” he mumbled, while feeling Jarvis silently judging him for his tardiness, as per usual.

“Not an issue. Are you feeling well? We did manage to get soaking wet out there, earlier,” Steve inquired and Tony had to once more remind himself that Steve was asking over his health only because it was the polite thing to do.

“Yes, quite. I _am_ starving, though. What’s cook prepared for dinner, Jarvis?” Tony asked, as the butler removed the covers from the dishes and the strong aroma of well-cooked meat hit his nose.

They ate in relative silence, with Jarvis and the servants around them at a polite distance. Tony couldn’t help but steal glances at Steve as he ate, observing the precise moves and impeccable manners, a stark contrast to what he had known of the man in the past.

Tony wondered if it was just another aspect of this new Steve, the military man, the noble. He never made an unnecessary movement, always in perfect control of himself. Or was it a result of his advantageous marriage? Was it that the low born boy Tony had once known -and loved so dearly- had since been taught how to handle cutlery by his patient, loving spouse? 

Tony had tried his hardest to pry as many details about the late Lady Rogers as he could when Steve’s party of friends had still been there, but he had ultimately failed to learn more than he’d already known. At times, even now, he caught Steve staring out into the empty space when he thought no one was looking, exuding an aura of longing, a heart-aching regret surrounding his beloved form. Tony suspected it had to do with his wife’s passing. He could never be sure, of course, but what else could it be, to be able to bring such melancholy to the other man.

Tony had also tried _-_ _hard_ _-_ not to feel jealous of a ghost. Whoever she might have been, Margaret Rogers was long gone, and to think ill of the dead was considered bad luck, even by sceptics like himself. But Tony had always been known for failing rather than succeeding at most of his endeavours, and, naturally, this one wasn’t an exception.

* * *

“ _Tony,_

_I hope everything has worked out for you in regards to your plans for the estate. You never stated it clearly in your letter, but I know you, dear friend, and I know that you are prone to take all the blame upon yourself if it doesn’t. Don’t, Tones. I know it’s taking a long time, but I will find him, as I promised you. He won’t get away with what he’s done, the misfortunes he has brought upon you. I will see to it that justice is served._

_…I take comfort in what you wrote to me last time, that you’ll seek the help of your childhood friend, Rogers. Though you’ve never talked much about him, I could always see you had a soft spot for him. Don’t think for a moment I never noticed how diligently you followed his career. I was quite jealous at times! But all jest aside, from what I’ve gathered from my army contacts that have met the man, Captain Rogers, or maybe I should refer to him as Lord Rogers, is as a fine fellow as they come. I know he won’t let you down._

_I hope to soon be able to see you again,_

_Yours faithfully,_

_Lieutenant Rhodes, HMS Lady Marvel_ _”_

Tony put down the letter, having read it for the fourth time in a row.

Rhodes’ letters had always been such source of comfort to him. Each time one arrived, Tony would stop whatever he was doing and run off somewhere quiet to read it and respond as quickly as he could.

Not this time, though.

It had been days since the letter first arrived, and still Tony couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to answer his dearest friend.

He knew he definitely had to tell Rhodes that he’d sold the estate. Tony surmised it wouldn’t come as much of a shock, since he’d been quite thorough in detailing his abysmal financial situation in his last letter. But, as much as he wanted to unburden himself to his best friend and most trusted confidant, he knew he could never tell Rhodey the rest.

How low he had come. How he had found himself so weak in the face of the one who got away, too weak to let Steve go when he first declined Tony’s offer. That he had instead offered him something he knew Steve couldn’t resist. Something he had readily denied others who had previously asked.

Rhodey would undoubtedly be furious with him for behaving so foolishly. Hell, he’d be _murderous_ if he were ever to learn that Steve had actually accepted Tony’s offer.

No, Tony decided. Rhodey would learn that Tony had sold the estate, that he was working for the man who had bought it, and nothing more.

Some things are best kept secret.

* * *

“You need to appoint a new architect for that pavilion you are obsessed with, my lord,” Tony exclaimed, having just finished reading through the day’s correspondence.

“What’s wrong with the one we already have?” Steve asked, indulging him.

It was a rather chilly evening and, while Tony was leaning on Steve’s desk, finishing with the lord’s paperwork, Steve had spent it seated on an armchair by the freshly lit fireplace, sketching idly in a notebook.

“He’s robbing you blind, that’s what’s wrong with him,” Tony responded, pointing down to the latest bill of charge the architect in question had send over that morning. “Almost _three hundred pounds_ for imported marble? At this day and age, with this economy? It’s absurd! Anyway, what is wrong with using a local stone?” he exclaimed rather dramatically. He saw Steve roll his eyes at Tony’s antics.

Tony was pleased that Steve was finally relaxing around him. It had been very confusing for Tony to constantly have to face Steve’s cool dismissal during the day and his fiery, passionate attentions at night. But lately, things had started to get smoother between them.

Tony wasn’t sure if it was the absence of other company that drove Steve to seek him out more and more during the day. Be it loneliness or perhaps nostalgia for their forgotten childhood friendship, these past few days Steve had definitely mellowed his ways where Tony was concerned.

“I like Mr Gibbins,” Steve protested. “He did a wonderful job with Admiral Johnson’s summer house. He has an eye for aesthetics and symmetry.”

“Oh, he has an eye, alright. An eye for making profit out of his unsuspecting clientele, that is!” Tony shot back.

Steve seemed more amused than irritated. Tony was secretly pleased with himself.

“You think I don’t know why you’re doing this, my lord? You just want to have a place to spend _days_ drawing the beauty of mother nature, don’t you deny it! You thought I wouldn’t notice, but nothing gets past me.” Steve grinned at him, and Tony just had to add, “You always _were_ a helpless romantic,” in a fond voice, his heart suddenly speeding up.

Steve let down the notebook and got up, walking up to him. “I happen to like the plans for the pavilion, Tony,” he stated, coming head to head with him, gaze burning into Tony’s. “End of story.”

Realising where they were and what was about to take place there, at an hour when a servant could easily walk in at any point, Tony protested weakly.

“Steve…” he started, breath catching as Steve’s hands shot to his waist. He didn’t get a chance to finish. Steve was quick to claim Tony’s lips with his own, demanding entrance to his mouth with a probing tongue. Tony could only grant his wish with a contented sigh, forgetting all previous protest.

The kiss soon turned slow, leisurely, leaving Tony almost bereft at the loss of Steve’s previous bout of passion.

“What you do to me,” Steve whispered in his mouth. He nipped at Tony’s neck, while both of them struggled at each other’s clothes, searching for skin.

They fell on the rug, with Tony under Steve, his legs parted obscenely, making room for the man. His eyes ran over that beloved face. Steve’s pupils were blown with lust, his mouth swollen from kissing and his usually neat hair was dishevelled. He took Tony’s hands in his own and in one move he was pinning Tony to the floor, arms held bent above his head and completely at Steve’s mercy.

Tony whined, unable to move, desperate in his failing attempt to rub himself against Steve. They were still almost fully clothed, except for Tony’s shirt which had been opened up at the top to grant Steve more access to Tony’s neck, and Tony’s cock ached in the confines of his breeches. He could feel that Steve was as affected as him, but was clearly set on taking his time to come to their mutual completion.

Slowly, maddeningly, Steve started moving against Tony, his crotch dragging against Tony’s, both men moaning at the feeling of the other’s member against their own. Steve had his face buried in Tony’s neck the entire time, while Tony was left dazed, writhing in the pleasure Steve was giving him.

Sooner than he’d anticipated, Tony felt Steve pick up his pace, losing rhythm as he moved faster and faster towards bliss. Then he faltered, a muffled “ _Tony!_ ” leaving his lips as he came, and Tony was utterly lost.

He followed Steve swiftly, and spilled in his clothes like a green, inexperienced boy. 

* * *

Jarvis still insisted on assisting Tony with getting dressed. Since Steve had brought his own footman along with him, the old butler had apparently decided he had nothing better to do in the mornings but tend to Tony.

Tony had stopped trying to change the older man’s mind after a while, knowing he would never win that particular battle.

“I would suggest the grey one, my lord,” he said, holding up the jacket in question in front of the mirror for Tony to take.

“Still not a lord, but yes, that’ll do nicely, thank you, Jarvis,” Tony replied, amused.  
  
His clothes, though not the latest fashion -as they used to be-, still had the desired effect of making him feel good and look respectable. Tony loved making a lasting impression. One’s outer appearance was as important as one’s reputation, at least where high society was concerned. _Whatever you do, do it in style_ , he loved to tease, back in the day, when he belonged to their ranks.

So what if Tony wanted to always look his best for Steve? Who would know?

“If I may, sir,” Jarvis spoke as Tony moved to button up his vest. Jarvis seemed, for lack of a better word, reluctant when he addressed him, still holding the jacket Tony had picked in his hand.

“It has come to my notice that you are spending a lot of time with Lord Rogers, that is, aside from your working for the man. Now, I may be old, but I still seem to remember how fond you both were of each other as children. I always thought it was unfortunate how you grew apart.”

Tony was lost as to how he should reply to that. He knew that Jarvis had an almost inhuman ability to always be aware of what took place inside the manor, but, somehow rather stupidly, come to think of it, Tony hadn’t realised until that moment that that could include his and Steve’s secret relationship.

“I’ve known you all your life, my dear boy. I know you have strong feelings for him.”

“Uhm,” Tony spluttered.

“Just as I know you never spend the night in your own bed anymore.”

Tony blanked.

Jarvis knew he was sleeping with Steve. Oh, God. Tony had never felt more embarrassed in his entire life. Did Jarvis also know about the deal? Had he -god forbid- seen them together in bed? Tony was mortified.

“Don’t look so startled, my lord. You need to be more careful. Young love is a wonderful thing, but think of how it would seem if people were talking about you two sleeping together. The awful things people might say, I dare not think of them! That you lie with him for his money, that he’s using you for your body, after first taking the last of your fortune,” Jarvis admonished, shaking his head in abject horror at the thought.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t be with the man you love, Tony. Just, maybe keep some things for the wedding night,” he finished, squeezing Tony’s shoulder in a rare physical gesture of fatherly comfort.

Tony, still stunned and unwilling to disappoint a man who he’d known all his life and loved almost like a father, just smiled and pretended it was all true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment, tell me your thoughts! 
> 
> I've been weirdly stressed about updating... 🤔


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was betaed by EachPeachPearPlum and Lacrimula_Falsa! Thank you guys for putting up with my mood swings...  
> Also a big thank you to my very own cheerleader, AvengersNewB!  
> ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> This chapter also has sort of a soundtrack? As in I listened to this song on repeat while writing it. 
> 
> It's [Arvo Part Spiegel Im Spiegel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nS0FPVOU5e0)

Steve strolled down the winding path towards the church, following the rhythmic peal of the bells that called all parishioners to gather for Sunday service. He did his best not to pay any attention to the curious looks and whispers he attracted on the way there.

He supposed it was unavoidable that his first appearance amongst them would stir such excitement. As a lord, Steve knew he had several societal obligations, attending church being one of them. Though he had, he admitted, been a little neglectful in exercising his faith since he had moved to the estate.

He wondered if those looks had to do with him being something out of the ordinary, a breath of fresh air to their dull, everyday lives, or if they were just curious to see a man who had been raised to nobility by his deeds and accomplishments rather than being born into it.

Perhaps some of the older onlookers recognized his face, connecting Lord Rogers to the lanky son of the widow Sarah Rogers, and a former servant of the Stark household.

Whatever their reason, they all chose -blessedly- not to engage Steve in conversation, seemingly content to observe him from a distance, while Steve chose to focus on the Reverend Phil Coulson’s sermon instead.

It came as a surprise to Steve how little Mr Coulson had actually changed in all the years that had passed. His hair was a bit thinner, perhaps a little greyer too, but nothing more obvious than that. He was still stoically delivering the word of God to his faithful flock, like the good and proper shepherd he was.

Unfortunately, paying attention proved to be a surprisingly difficult task for Steve to accomplish. Throughout the entire service, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the only one listening to the vicar. By the end, he was convinced that everyone else was watching him instead.

It was unnerving, to say the least. Thankfully, it was soon over.

After the service had finished, Steve lingered in order to meet with Mr Coulson, as he had originally intended.

Steve wasn’t the only churchgoer who had stayed behind, and the vicar was happily engaging in small talk with an elderly gentleman when he finally took notice of Steve. He moved to greet him eagerly.

“Ah, a new face!” he exclaimed, offering a hand. “There’s only one person this could be. Welcome to our parish, Lord Rogers! I am Reverend Phil Coulson. I was wondering when we would have the honour of meeting the new owner of Stark Manor.”

“I would say well met, Mr Coulson, but, as I am sure you are well aware, this is far from our first meeting,” Steve responded, taking Coulson’s hand in a firm handshake.

Mr Coulson’s smile grew larger. “A very warm welcome back, then, my lord.”

They chatted in a genial manner for a little while. Mr Coulson was eager to hear some of Steve’s war stories, while Steve found himself asking about the church’s charitable efforts in the area. He was deeply affected when he learned of the shelter Mr Coulson was running, a safe haven for widows and unwed mothers. As the child of a widow, Steve was very aware of their struggle, and he could only imagine how much harder his mother’s life -and consequently his own- would have been had she and his father not been married before his death. It was an admirable cause, and he readily expressed interest in giving his patronage to the place.

He left the church after promising to Mr Coulson he would join him in a visit of St Mary Magdalene’s, the refuge, later that month.

He was walking back to his carriage, spirits significantly lifted, when he heard people chattering further down the path. Normally, Steve wouldn’t have paid them any mind, had they not mentioned his name, apparently unaware that the man they were talking about was, in fact, a few feet behind them.

“It’s _Lord_ Rogers, now,” one of them, a middle-aged, annoying-looking woman in a huge hat adorned with green lace, said. “And so dashing to boot!”

The ladies of the company giggled.

“Well, I heard from my cousin -he works for the butcher, as you know and he was at and has been on the estate just yesterday- that the _former_ Lord Stark still lives there with him!” her companion, a chubby, balding man of a similar age, boasted.

Steve found his mood darkening rather quickly.

The first woman, as if unwilling to be surpassed, hurried to add, “Well, _I heard_ that Stark works for him.”

That, apparently, caused a chain reaction of gasps, exclamations of surprise, and shocked denials to fill the air, as the gossiping party expressed their collective surprise at the notion.

“No!”

“Surely you jest?”

“My word!”

Obviously pleased, the woman continued in a mock-whisper.

“Mr Sanders says he saw their contract in the solicitor’s office. It’s written there plainly, for anyone to see! Thomas thinks Stark has been _blackmailing_ Lord Rogers. He says it’s all a front, and that he has forced Rogers to pay him a salary and everything! That way he is free to continue with his life of debauchery…”

“That little miscreant!”

“I’ll say!”

The sounds grew distant as the gossiping group turned left down the main street, while Steve stayed rooted to the spot, his mind still reeling.

* * *

Steve spent the entire ride back to the Manor in deep contemplation, greatly troubled by what he had just overheard.

It had been clear from the start that these people thought of Steve as a victim of Tony’s schemes. They had even been doubtful that Tony was actually working for him, oblivious in their gleeful contempt for the man, and it was little relief that there seemed to be no word of him serving as Steve’s mistress in addition to his secretary.

What was most unnerving to Steve, though, was how familiar their description of Tony was. It was almost identical in tone and subject matter to the gossip Steve used to hear about the man back in town.

Steve had always been strangely eager to learn news of Tony’s whereabouts. He was ashamed to remember how vindicated he’d felt when he first realised how far from honourable Tony Stark had proven to be. Steve recalled telling Bucky he was grateful to fate for not leaving him bound to a man like that, once again blaming his boyish foolishness for falling for Tony’s wiles in the first place.

He had studiously ignored the sorrow that filled his heart at the news of his oldest friend being so deeply in trouble.

Peggy, of course, had been able to see right through him, even then. Her advice was to not pay too much attention to what people said of Lord Stark, because people were cruel more often than not, and to just be glad Tony was still around for Steve to hear news of him. Peggy’s great love, a man she had hesitated talking about with Steve, but would to her dying breath swear half her heart belonged to, had been parted from her too soon, not by circumstances but by death. To this day, the knowledge that Peggy, after her passing, was finally reunited with her Daniel gave Steve a great deal of comfort.

Now, after all the years Steve had spent thinking ill of Tony, the thought that he’d actually been mistaken, that he had, all this time, been as misinformed about Tony as the gossips he overheard today was gnawing at Steve’s already heavy conscience.

* * *

Steve found no reprieve from his troubling thoughts when he got back to the Manor.

“My lord! Back just in time to help us settle the matter once and for all. We’re finally ready to finish the lobby restorations! Now, I told Smith here you’d be perfectly satisfied with oak flooring, but he insists on showing you the mahogany samples he told you about last week,” Tony grinned, greeting him jovially.

He was dressed rather informally, just a pair of trousers and a half-tucked shirt, and was apparently in the middle of discussing business with one of the contractors for the house. Just by looking at him, it was evident Tony had spent the morning working along with the other men. Both his clothes and his face were smudged with paint.

He was glowing.

Steve’s heart quickened at the sight of him. How was this bright-eyed man in front of him possibly the same man that was the source of so much gossip and scandal?

Steve resisted reaching out a hand to wipe the smudge from Tony’s delicate nose.

He cleared his throat, wishing he had more time to clear his mind as well. “I thought Mr Smith was the contractor, Mr Stark, and yet, here you are covered in paint,” he commented dryly.

Tony’s cheeks reddened at that. Not giving him time to splutter an excuse, Steve turned to the actual contractor with newfound determination.

“Yes, well… let us see those samples you’ve brought us, Mr Smith.”

* * *

Later that day, after they finished with Mr Smith’s surprisingly large collection of flooring samples, Jarvis served the both of them tea in one of the reading rooms. Making small talk, Tony asked Steve what news he’d brought from the village. After Steve mentioned Mr Coulson’s shelter for single mothers, he was once more surprised when he was met with Tony’s approving exclamations of gratitude.

“Giving patronage to St. Mary Magdalene’s? That would truly be wonderful of you, Steve! They could definitely use the money for better insulation and general repairs. That damp old building is practically uninhabitable through winter, especially the second floor…”

“Oh,” Steve exclaimed, astonished. “You’ve actually been there?”

Tony nodded his head eagerly. He scooped up one of Mrs Jarvis’ scones, munching on it as he continued.

“I did some work on the property for Mr Coulson, a year or so ago. Unfortunately, by that time I no longer had resources to be of assistance in any other way. I fixed the pump to the well and some of the windows… Donated some old furniture, too,” he finished simply and happily went on with his tea.

 _Huh_...

So, Tony hadn’t let his lack of money stop him from helping out the shelter, St Mary Magdalene’s, in any way he could.

Steve’s thoughts went back to the conversation he had overheard that morning at church, that gossiping group of friends. He couldn’t help but wonder if any of them ever spared a thought for the comfort of illegitimate children and their poor, damned mothers, beyond ones of contempt.

Steve excused himself soon after, doubting he would be good company if he remained.

* * *

“You asked for me, my lord?” Jarvis inquired, after Steve gave him leave to enter the study. Steve had been waiting for the butler to arrive for quite some time after sending his man to get him, and he had started to become annoyed by the delay. Tony had left the bedroom early that morning, before Steve had been truly awake to greet him good day, only to then get distracted doing some chore on Miss Potts’ behalf, and Steve had been in a foul mood ever since.

“Yes, Jarvis, finally. I need to speak to you,” Steve exclaimed hastily.

“I am listening, my lord,” Jarvis replied, stoically, though Steve thought he detected disapproval in the older man’s features.

He pursed his lips, deciding to ignore it. “I need you to make preparations for a visiting party. Six, maybe eight people, the number has yet to be finalised.”

If Jarvis was surprised, he didn’t show it. “Of course, my lord. May I ask when the guests will be arriving?”

Looking down at the letter he had received earlier informing him of his guests’ arrival, he replied “Soon, very soon. This Friday, to be precise.”

He chose not to go on into further details, and Jarvis definitely knew better than to inquire about things that didn’t concern him.

Steve wished he first discussed this with his secretary, but the man seemed to have simply disappeared. So, Steve would have to deal with the matter himself.

Sensing his master was done with him, Jarvis spoke up. “Indeed, my lord. I shall speak to the cook and arrange for provisions. I will also inform Miss Potts the guest rooms are to be readied.”

Steve nodded, satisfied.

“Splendid, yes. Oh, and Jarvis. If you please… I would like to inform Mr Stark of this myself,” he finished, looking at the old butler expectantly.

Jarvis’ eyes lingered on him for a moment before he replied with a curt, “Understood, my lord,” and left.

* * *

Steve was absently walking the corridors, wondering what Tony was doing that had made him so late, when he heard a loud commotion coming from below. He rushed to the balustrade and bent over just in time to see Tony and Peter running across the lobby, chasing a mud-covered mutt that had somehow managed to sneak inside the house and wreak havoc on the freshly mopped floors.

“To your left, Mr Stark!” Peter yelled as the dog let out a mournful howl and jumped over one of the occasional tables, knocking down a porcelain vase.

“Damnation! Peter, get his leash, boy! Why are you just looking at it?” Tony cursed, gesturing wildly at the rope that hung from the beast’s collar.

The dog barked happily, quite possibly taking the entire show as a rather entertaining game. It stopped, as if finally satisfied to stay where it was. All around it lay pools of mud and broken pieces of porcelain.

“I swear, you are begging for a beating,” Tony breathed out angrily and made to finally get the dog’s leash. As he moved, he failed to notice some of the fallen debris on the floor.

“Watch out!” Steve exclaimed from the top of the stair, too late. Tony’s leg slipped, his hands flailing in the air comically as he landed on his backside.

“Argh!” Tony yelped. Peter rushed to help him get up, while Steve ran to the scene.

Seeing Tony up close, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment, rubbing his hurt behind with one hand, Steve couldn’t help himself any longer.

“Stop laughing, you insufferable man,” Tony mumbled, no heat behind his words. He was limping a little, and Steve was sure he’d have a bruise from the fall.

The thought of him being able to inspect Tony’s bruised buttock thoroughly at the end of the day made Steve’s laughter quiet down.

“I missed you, all morning,” he said, finally. Tony turned to look at him, a frown marring his handsome features.

“I thought you were informed of my whereabouts, my lord. Miss Potts had asked me to…”

Steve shook his head. “I know that. I didn’t mean… Never mind,” he said, lost for words, but now was as good a time as any to inform Tony of their expecting company.

“Tony, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he began but was cut off by a determined Miss Potts strutting towards the pair of them.

“Anthony Stark! There you are… Oh, my lord, I almost didn’t see you there,” Miss Potts said, smiling at Steve, absentmindedly. She turned to Tony once again, pointing her finger in his face. “You, mister, promised to help me finish with the inventory! You will not wiggle your way out of it this time…” she finished, her eyes squinting.

“But Pepper, his lordship wanted to talk to me,” Tony bristled.

“It can wait,” Steve said, feeling strangely guilty not coming to Tony’s aid when the man had clearly meant for him to do so.

* * *

There was an old carved wooden box hidden at the bottom of Steve’s old travelling chest. It had been one of the few things of his childhood Steve had kept with him in the army and through the years after.

It had been one of the many gifts Tony had given him, though perhaps the only one Steve had accepted, because it hadn’t been overly lush, or too expensive, but rather plain-looking, like most others. It had been a game of theirs, Steve refusing Tony’s extravagant gifts, usually clothes, simply because he could never be seen in them, while Tony insisted he accept them.

Steve had always thought the box had been made and not bought, most likely by Tony himself, because the decorations were simple and even flawed at points, the varnish had been unevenly spread, and the locking mechanism was overly complicated. It was perfect in its imperfections and Steve had loved it the moment he laid eyes on it.

When he was packing his meagre belongings to leave for the war front, Steve had left behind everything that he associated with Tony, anything that would remind him of the man who broke his heart. Everything but that wooden box.

He’d been unwilling to part with it, even after the horrible way its maker had treated him.

Back in the safety of his rooms, Steve took the box out once again and regarded it, deep in thought, mindful of anyone -mainly Tony himself- coming in and seeing him holding it.

After he first moved in his rooms, Steve had, more than once, caught himself staring absently at the closed doors of his new study, as if he were conditioned to listen for the slightest of sounds, the barest of noises, the signs of Tony’s presence coming from the room next door.

From the first night they spent together, Steve was constantly aware of Tony. Always so close to him and so far away at the same time. His siren call was ever persistent and Steve often found himself drawn to its melody, his heart beating to its strange rhythm.

Steve just couldn’t get enough of him, even if most nights Tony ended up falling asleep in his arms.

Steve wanted more.

Always did.

_Steve was weeding Mrs Jarvis’ vegetable garden when Tony found him. He was up to his knees in mud, hands dirty and brow dripping with sweat, more aware of their differences than ever._

_Tony looked mesmerizing to Steve’s eyes. A fairy king, come to steal away his poor heart._

_He had always looked good, but, during these past few months, the last of the baby-fat had left his cheeks and he had even grown a few inches. He had turned from a cute, sweet boy into a beautiful young man._

_Steve felt his cheeks flaming._

_Tony dropped down to kneel beside him, not caring that he was ruining a perfectly tailored pair of trousers. Steve’s gaze followed his hands, where he was holding what seemed to be like a neatly folded piece of fabric, perhaps a handkerchief, Steve couldn’t be quite certain._

_Tony smiled at him mischievously. He was obviously aware of the effect he had on Steve, and very satisfied with himself too._

_“So…” Tony began, unwilling to wait any longer. “Father says I am supposed to leave for university tomorrow, as soon as Jarvis gets the packing in order.”_

_Steve’s heart clenched at the thought of Tony moving away. But he knew there could never be another way for them._

_“I wish you a good start, Tony. I’m sure you’ll drive them all crazy. You will do great things there, I know it.”_

_Hesitating for a moment, Tony nodded and handed him the folded piece of fabric with a determined look painted on his lovely face._

_“There. I want you to have this when I’m away,” he said, almost shyly._

_Steve eyed the item placed in his hand. He’d been correct in assuming it was a handkerchief. A plain white cotton, with the initials A.E.S. stitched on one of the corners that identified it as Tony’s. He unfolded it slowly, wondering what it would reveal._

_Inside there was a single lock of hair. Soft, dark brown, curling just so in the familiar way that never failed to leave Steve out of breath each time he caught sight of it._

_Carefully, he held the lock between his fingers, slowly caressing it. It felt like velvet._

_“Tony…” he started, aware of his voice going rough._

_In return, Tony’s voice had gone serious, more so than Steve had ever heard before. “I want you to hold it and think of me, Steve. I want you to remember that I’ll be back, sooner rather than later. And maybe…” he gulped, pausing._

_“Maybe, if we are lucky, you will have become a great war hero by the time I return, and you will be welcomed back here not as a servant but…but as…” He trailed off, finally lost for words, as Steve himself had been for some while now._

_Steve gulped, stunned at Tony’s bravery and all it implied. It took a moment for him to process all that was said, and to take some time to get his thoughts in order and his heart to stop beating wildly._

_Carefully, he placed the lock of Tony’s hair back in the handkerchief and as soon as he finished, he took Tony’s hand in his own in a firm, all but crushing grasp._

_Feeling bold, Steve brought the hand to his lips, a silent promise._

_Maybe Tony could be his, after all._

_Soon._

* * *

It had been easier to deal with at first. After seeing Tony again for the first time in years, the memories of their bitter parting had come to life, haunting Steve once again, but they had at least served in reigniting those feelings of hurt and anguish that had followed him for years. Steve had felt safe in his anger, his pain. Tony couldn’t hurt him any more than he already had.

Steve’s heart would be safe from the man if it wasn’t at all there. So, Steve decided he would be heartless and try his best to hate the man Tony had become.

Every time he touched Tony, every time he took pleasure from his eager body, Steve would firmly think of their mutual agreement, force his mind to repeat the list of Tony’s character defects, if only to keep his errant emotions at bay.

Still, despite all that, Tony’s effect on him was maddening. Steve had tried to ignore Tony in their everyday dealings, for the most part. He had tried, and at times even succeeded to separate Tony the temptation from Tony the servant. It was a dangerous game to play, especially for his vulnerable -already thoroughly broken- heart, and every day that passed, it was getting harder and harder to keep it all up.

Steve sighed, turning the key to unlock the box. The mechanism clicked and the top sprang open. Steve’s fingers hesitated for a moment, caressing the worn edges of a heart carved on one of the sides.

Each day, Steve struggled to keep to his preconceived notions of Tony, while the man effortlessly proved each and every one of them wrong.

There was no sign of the conceit that Lord Stark had been known for, no arrogance in the way he held himself when he talked. He liked a drink, yes, but only slightly more than Steve did, nowhere near as much as the rumours suggested. And he was eager to give his body away for Steve’s pleasure, but then, Steve would be the last to object to that.

All of Tony’s actions, from the moment Steve had set eyes on him again to the last time he’d seen him, not an hour ago in the dining room, spoke only of a good-natured character and a brilliant, playful mind. He showed great care for others and a willingness to enjoy life in general.

At night, Tony would cling to Steve tightly, would tremble with passion in his arms and it was getting harder and harder for Steve to convince himself that the look in Tony’s eyes was only lust.

Could it all be acting? Steve doubted that. Even Tony wasn’t as good an actor as to keep up the pretence at all times.

Steve closed his eyes, willing the headache this inner turmoil had brought away. His mind drifted, thinking of better, happier times.

Steve, to this day, used the box to store the most forbidden of his possessions.

Little drawings of Tony that Steve had drawn and couldn’t throw away, most of them made during moments of weakness when Steve, being at the war front, thought he wouldn’t live to see another day and ached to just see Tony’s face one last time.

Newspaper clippings with Tony’s name printed upon them.

The handkerchief that hid his lock of hair.

The things he had left of Tony.

* * *

_The door rattled on its hinges, the loud thud still reverberating in the room. It didn’t matter. There was little chance anyone would still be in the servants' wing this late in the day, most of them already up and about, running around the Manor doing their respective tasks._

_All for the best, really._

_Steve angrily wiped away the tears that ran down his cheeks, noting that his hands were still trembling._

_He had refused to let himself completely break down in front of Tony, but now, in the safety of his small bedroom, Steve just couldn’t find it in him to hold on any longer._

_His sobs were ugly, too loud. He sounded like a wounded animal._

_Felt like one, too._

_His fingers curled into tight fists, and he pressed them hard against his closed eyes._

_He’d been such a fool._

_There was an immeasurable burden pressing on his chest, right where his heart was. The ring he’d bought for Tony, the one he had spent half of all his savings on, was hidden there, inside a pocket of his jacket._

_How could Steve ever have believed it was all real…? That it was anything more than the silly fancies of a rich boy, playing with a servant?_

_It hurt. He felt that he was dying. That dying would have been preferable to this._

_His knees gave up._

_Oh, how Tony had tricked him._

_After he knew not how long a time spent kneeling on the cold floor of his room, Steve decided enough was enough. He tried hard to smother down his sobs, to calm his breathing._

_It was all done, now. What he had thought would be his future proved nothing but a cruel farce, and he himself was the biggest fool of them all for falling for it._

_There was nothing left for him here, now._

_Nothing left to do but leave._

_Nothing left for him but war._

* * *

It was there, amongst his most treasured and secret possessions, that Steve had hastily shoved the letter he received from Fury the other day. He had thankfully been quick enough to hide it from Tony’s curious eyes, though he’d reacted a bit too harshly to the man’s well-intentioned nosiness.

He had almost forgotten about it, after having to deal with making the arrangements for the railway company’s executives to visit the estate, while making sure not to let anyone else know about them up to the last possible minute.

It had taken almost a month of constant, private correspondence for them to agree to Steve’s preliminary proposal.

Having the railway pass through his land, and perhaps even have a station built in the nearest village, would bring great profit to the estate, and to the surrounding area. But it was too big a transaction for him to risk any word of it reaching the wrong ears in town.

He took out the succinct letter Fury had sent him and once again struggled to make sense of its few sentences and the hidden meaning behind them.

_Rogers,_

_You always were more perceptive than most. I find it strange it has taken you this long to inquire about this, especially given your connection to the Starks. You are right in thinking there is more to Stane’s disappearance than what has been made public, but I must first do more research before I go about telling you ghost stories._

_As always, stay vigilant,_

_Nicholas Fury_

Steve had been too preoccupied with musing over Fury’s letter to realise how late it was, certainly later than the usual time Tony made his appearance, until he heard the muted sound of a cry, followed by the muffled thump of something falling. Remembering Tony’s earlier injury, he didn’t hesitate, jumping to his feet and making his way through the adjoining study to Tony’s room, scared of what he might find there.

The sight that greeted him would remain carved in Steve’s memory until his last day. Possibly beyond that, too.

Tony wasn’t hurt.

Far from it.

He was standing beside the bed, in the nude, one foot on the bed, while the other stood firmly on the floor. He was half turned, and his hand was reaching behind him, to the tempting soft curve of his buttocks, where his fingers disappeared inside his hungry hole. His eyes were shut, fluttering, and he was biting down on his lip as if to keep himself from letting out soft cries of pleasure.

On the floor there was a lidded jar, still rolling slowly to the nearest wall.

For several moments, Steve found himself unable to move. He just watched, mesmerized as Tony’s fingers slowly disappeared inside his body, one after the other. It felt oddly perverted to watch Tony do something so sensual, so arousing, without the man knowing he had an audience.

 _This is for me,_ Steve thought, dazed. _He’s preparing himself for me_.

Suddenly, Tony’s eyes snapped open, finally alert to the other presence in his room. His gaze fell immediately on Steve, stunned.

They were both locked in place for what felt like hours, until Steve took notice that Tony’s fingers were still moving slowly inside his hole.

“Steve…” Tony whispered.

It was like a dam just broke inside him.

Making a sound that could only be described as a growl, Steve prowled through the room to where Tony was still standing frozen, looking at Steve with wide, desperate eyes, his pupils completely blown.

“Steve…” Tony repeated, as if only now realising it wasn’t a dream, that Steve was actually in the room with him and then Steve was on him like a lion on its prey.

He swallowed Tony’s moans of pleasure hungrily, pushing and pulling at his body until he had him spread on the bed, naked, panting and entirely at Steve’s mercy.

“Steve, please…” Tony moaned again, Steve’s very own siren. Their eyes met and slowly, purposefully, Tony spread his legs apart in an irresistible invitation.

For the first time since this had all began, Steve took his time preparing Tony, amazed at how erotic the act was proving to be for him.

He ignored his desperate pleas for more, the aimless thrashing of limbs as Tony tried to chase his pleasure and ride Steve’s fingers. He avoided hitting that spot inside Tony, where he knew that sparks would light up when he pressed. He had plans for that spot, later, when his own cock joined the activities.

He ignored Tony’s leaking cock, which was achingly hard and begging for some relief, even gently slapping away Tony’s hands when they tried to wrap around it.

“Agh…Steve, please!” Tony cried, his entire body shaking after Steve shoved a third finger deep inside him, his eyes rolling as the pleasure got too much for him to deal with.

Steve had never before felt hunger like he felt for this man. He’d always taken pride in the strength of his willpower, but there was no way even the strongest of men could resist this.

He had no patience to undress, just paused for a moment to get his cock out and then he was on the bed again, kneeling between Tony’s spread legs. He tugged at them, pulling the tempting body closer, bending those graceful knees so far back that Tony was almost folded in half. He aligned himself with the well-prepared hole and slowly pushed his cock inside, inch by inch.

“Tony, Tony…” Steve panted into Tony’s neck, his jaw, his gasping mouth, as he felt Tony’s heat enveloping his aching member. He bottomed out and stilled momentarily, basking at the glorious feeling of him, only moving when Tony clumsily tried to roll his hips, a desperate plea falling from his trembling lips.

“More, Steve…please…” Tony exclaimed, his whole body shivering. His hands clenched Steve’s arms, hard enough to leave bruises.

Steve obliged him.

They moved as one body, waves of arousal flowing through them like lightning on a stormy sky, desperate and devastating all at once.

It was too much, too good for Steve to be able to last any longer. He sped up his pace, his hips ramming into Tony, coaxing louder and louder cries of pleasure to fall from his lips.

He came screaming Tony’s name, lost in the white haze of one of the most powerful orgasms he’d ever experienced in his life.

They panted, breathing into each other’s mouths as they came down from the ecstasy of their intense coupling.

Tony sighed, happily, as he turned into Steve’s arms, his body pressing closer to Steve’s. They had made love one more time, slower, almost leisurely, looking into each other’s eyes the entire time, and Tony had ended up falling asleep not long after.

* * *

Steve’s hands were combing through Tony’s messy curls, basking in the familiar silky feeling of them on the tips of his fingers. In contrast to Tony, Steve had been unable to relax after their love-making. Instead, he was plagued with alarming thoughts that sucked all joy he might have felt out of his heart.

How many times had Steve touched that hidden token of Tony’s hair, knowing he would never be able to touch the head it belonged to? Believing with all his heart that the man who had given it to him was lost, a traitor, or worse, had never been real to begin with?

But…that was, apparently, incorrect.

It was only then, in the darkest hour of the night, after having spent hours basking in the pleasure of Tony’s body, that Steve finally allowed himself to admit he may have been blindsided by his tempestuous feelings for the man, after all.

He had made his decision based on bitterness and anger, expecting to meet only the shallow man that he had convinced himself Tony had been all along, only to be met by a worn but still kind-hearted version of the Tony he remembered.

To even consider that Tony wasn’t actually responsible for all the crimes he’d been accused of…It made Steve’s mind reel.

Steve’s hands tightened around Tony’s shoulder, trying to control the anger that welled up at the thought of how much Tony had had to endure, without ever saying a word.

Steve too had added more than once to Tony’s silent suffering. How many times had he scoffed at the man, had he spoken words aimed at hurting him, making Tony suffer like he had made Steve suffer?

Yes, Tony had turned down Steve cruelly before, it was true, but that didn’t excuse Steve behaving so vengefully, not after so many years and most decidedly not under these circumstances.

No. This time, Steve recognised that he had behaved far from honourably.

The only thing keeping him from completely losing his wits was the steady, calm beating of Tony’s heart against his chest.

For one torturous moment, Steve wondered if Tony had suggested them becoming lovers out of sheer desperation alone, and the thought ate away at his soul.

But no, Tony’s responsiveness to Steve’s touches, the hunger in his eyes, those surely couldn’t have been forced. No, at least that must be real. At least, Steve desperately hoped it was.

The hours dragged by slowly.

Could Steve really go on like this? All the uncertainty, the guilt of living like _this_ , with a man that he once thought he would spend the rest of his life with, it was becoming almost too much. He felt as if he had lost sense of his true self.

This behaviour... it wasn’t at all like him.

Steve didn’t want to let Tony go, but he was beginning to understand that perhaps he just might have to, for both their sakes.

When the first rays of dawn broke through the curtains, Steve carefully untangled himself from Tony’s embrace and slowly made his way back to his rooms.

Lord Rogers had come to a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I hope you guys liked it! Please let me know, I live for your comments 😋 
> 
> Also, in case you were wondering what an occasional table was, in the words of my beta peach: "it's that small table that stands in alcoves and corners and serves no purpose other than being a place to put vases and ornaments and shit."😂😂😂


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First I would like to apologize for taking so long to update. These past three weeks have been some of the most trying times of my life. I don't want to say too much, just that something happened to someone close to me and it took a while for me to get back to a semblance of normality. 
> 
> That meant that unfortunately, this story was far from a priority. But I promise all of you, I will definitely finish this story. It might take some time, and the next two months the updates will most likely be scarce, but I will not abandon this fic. 
> 
> Now, this chapter comes with an update to the tags and the added warning of a very brief mention of past attempted noncon, definitely not between Tony and Steve. 
> 
> A warm thank you to my beta EachPeachPearPlum and my cheerleader AvengersNewB.
> 
> Enjoy!

  
  


Tony woke up feeling cold. He inhaled deeply, still mostly asleep, and sighed with pleasure at the subtle scent of Steve lingering on his pillow. Smiling softly, he turned on his side, expecting to find Steve’s familiar warmth. Instead, he was met only by cold sheets.

He lifted his head, searching for the other man, suddenly fully awake. Had Steve left already?

What  _ time  _ was it?

Forcing himself to get up, he looked around, taking note of the light shining brightly inside the room. It was late morning at best. Tony had apparently overslept.

He swore under his breath, shooting up from the bed in a hurry to get dressed.

His body ached in protest, a none too subtle reminder of last night’s vigorous activities. He blushed just at the memory.

_ Steve… _

Tony sighed longingly. Last night had been some of the most passionate, most ardent love-making Tony had ever experienced. Steve had been so gentle, but also persistently urgent in his desire for Tony’s body, and Tony had been more than willing to satisfy him. Tony had been overcome with the depth of Steve’s kisses, the passion hidden in every sigh of Tony’s name, the delicate way he caressed Tony’s sides when he held him close afterwards.

Since the beginning, Steve had always seemed to take pleasure in sleeping with him, but lately, Tony felt something had changed. There was a certain shift in the other man’s demeanour towards him. 

He dressed himself quickly. With each movement he delighted in the -now familiar- presence of the pleasure-pain that came after his body had been thoroughly used. Tony had started to like the idea of Steve’s touches leaving a lingering mark upon his skin. It was something just for Tony, to be cherished in turn as a private, ever-present keepsake, a reminder of their stolen moments together. He shivered just thinking about it.

Last night’s encounter was just further proof of Steve’s change. There had been too many instances where Steve had made him feel precious - _ cherished, even-  _ for it to just be Tony misinterpreting things. 

Tony hadn’t failed to notice that Steve had mellowed in all of their interactions, not just as a lover, but as an employer as well. He smiled more, even joked with Tony at some points, and their working relationship had been running smoothly, like a well-oiled clock. 

Still… it was almost unreal. Too good to be true.

A dream.

He recalled his surprise at Steve’s unexpected presence in his rooms. How long had he been there, Tony would never know. Tony had been too busy pleasuring himself, thinking of Steve while preparing for their tryst, to take notice of his arrival. 

Though, calling it a tryst now felt wrong. 

It really hadn’t seemed like that at all lately.

Tony fought hard to keep the fledgling hope from blooming in his chest and overwhelming him. 

It wouldn’t be the first time Tony got way ahead of himself in matters of love. He knew he shouldn’t expect too much, given his situation. After all, who was he but a disgraced man with nothing to his name but notoriety? No, he shouldn't allow himself too much hope. 

He had learned his lesson well, after all. Tiberius had made sure of that.

Maybe Steve had become softer with him, but perhaps it should have been expected. After all, Tony knew Steve’s character well enough, he was fair and good, so it would only be natural that he wouldn’t have it in him to hold onto his grudge for Tony for long. It didn’t automatically mean he was falling for him again.

But maybe he was forgiving Tony, at last. 

Tony prayed his mind wasn’t playing tricks with him, and that Steve  _ was indeed  _ changing, was becoming  _ Tony’s Steve _ once again. 

Maybe then there would be a chance of rekindling the feelings Steve once had for him.

Just the thought of Tony having a second chance at their relationship, at him and Steve, at all the happiness Tony had been forced to give up all those years ago, left him weak in the knees. 

Last night also marked another first for them. It had been the first time Steve had come to Tony of his own accord. And by the startled look of him at finding Tony in such a manner, he would bet Steve hadn’t even come to him with sex on his mind. At first, at least. Them making love in that manner, it had felt...spontaneous.

It filled Tony’s heart with hope, and left him more scared than ever before.

* * *

  
  
  


When Tony went downstairs, it took a while for him to find a member of the staff, never mind the master of the manor himself. 

Steve was a much earlier riser than Tony was, so it wasn’t uncommon for them to wake separately, though he usually insisted on having breakfast with Tony before the both of them would get started on the day’s endeavours. 

Tony ended up going all the way to the back kitchen just to find someone. At last, he found Betsy, the scullery maid, kneading a loaf on one of the back counters. She pretended she was minding her own business while she eyed him curiously. The entire room was filled with the pleasant smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. It was a strong reminder to Tony, who realised that he was, in fact, ravenous and in great need of replenishing his energy. He grabbed a fragrant pastry from one of the trays, along with some leftover cheese and threw a mischievous smile at Betsy.

“Morning, milord!” she greeted him cheerfully, while keeping up her work.

“Good morning, Bets…” he answered. “Say, Betsy, could you prepare me some tea? I swear everyone has disappeared on me this morning…”

She nodded eagerly. “I’d be happy to do so, milord! You must excuse Jarvis. He’s got everyone busy, preparing for his lordship’s guests, you see. Running to town to buy this and that, cleaning all the guest rooms, preparing the fire-places, the stables... Otherwise, you can be sure he would have already brought you your morning tea by now! Oh, but do you think he’ll bring lots of ladies this time, sir? Lady Natalia wore the most beautiful lace gowns I have ever seen...” Betsy chatted lightheartedly. She finished her dough and left it on the counter to rest, moving to prepare the kettle for Tony’s tea.

Tony was too absorbed in his cinnamon-roll to take immediate notice of what Betsy actually said.

_ His lordship’s what now? _ Perhaps he had heard her wrong, though Tony didn’t know how he could misunderstand such a simple thing. So Steve was preparing to receive guests again?

Intrigued, but not overly concerned about who it might be, Tony chose to politely end the conversation with the well-meaning but nosy young woman. Tony had expected that both Barnes and Sir Barton would probably become frequent visitors to the Manor. He put his cup down and dusted his hands on one of the towels. 

“Betsy, my dear, do you know where I might find Jarvis?” he asked.

“Oh, but of course, sir!”

* * *

  
  
  
  


“So he’s not told you who it is he’s expecting either?” Tony asked Jarvis, growing more curious by the moment. 

He had found the old butler at the Green Room, the guest room farthest away from Steve’s -and Tony’s- quarters, where he was supervising a group of servants who were airing sheets and dusting the furniture.

“No, my lord. His lordship just said that it would be a party of maybe eight people and that they would be arriving soon. He, erm…” Jarvis hesitated. “He, well… asked me to keep this from you. Said he wanted to inform you of the visit himself.”

Now  _ that  _ made Tony frown, if only momentarily. 

Why would Steve want to tell Tony himself? Surely if it were just Barnes and Barton, it wouldn’t warrant such secrecy. Could it be Steve wanted to gauge Tony’s reaction, perhaps? Or was it something other than Steve just being suspicious of him. Maybe Steve didn’t trust his ability to keep a secret, though Tony thought he had already proven to him he could be discreet when needed, despite how fickle and, oftentimes, foolish the gossip had always painted him.

He dismissed these disquieting thoughts with a shake of his head. No. Steve was much more likely to be expecting his old army friends, again. Unless...

Unless Tony’s heart hadn’t been misleading him after all, when it screamed that Steve was changing for the better, that there was something blossoming between them again. Maybe these guests were meant as a surprise to him? A positive one, for a change?

Tony’s heart swelled at the thought of Steve preparing a surprise for him. It was possible, though, wasn’t it? 

Unwittingly, his mind recalled Steve looking at him with sparkling eyes not two days ago, when Tony had said something he had found amusing. He recalled Steve’s needy whispers of “ _ Tony! _ ” as he spilled his seed inside him, warm and possessive, holding on to him as if he was the most precious being in his world.

Would that truly be so surprising? 

If Steve, generous, beloved Steve, had found strength enough in his heart to forgive Tony, then he could perhaps be planning a surprise as a way to show Tony that he had indeed revised his bad opinion of him.

Maybe  _ Rhodey  _ had managed to dock a few months earlier than originally planned and had contacted Steve directly, asking to visit? 

Oh, what joy would that bring him, to have his dearest friend and confidant near him again!

“Well... don’t you worry, Jarvis, it wasn’t you who spilled the secret, it was that horrible gossip, Betsy. God bless her,” Tony replied, his excitement evident in his voice. Jarvis lifted a brow in acknowledgement. 

“Indeed, sir.” 

“Do you happen to know where Steve is now?” he asked, suddenly impatient for more information.

“He got up earlier than usual, read the letter that arrived for him just after dawn and then left for the village of Shuntington. He took the carriage and was accompanied by Miss Potts, who intended to visit the market. We need to stock up before our guests arrive.”

Steve had received another letter? That served to mute Tony’s good mood. His mind flew back to that brief letter, days ago. What was it with Lord Rogers and his mysterious correspondence? 

Not that Steve was under any obligation to pass all his letters through his secretary, but still. It vexed Tony greatly to know he wasn’t privy to something potentially of great importance. 

Last time, Tony had been certain that it was a letter from an admirer or potential suitor. This time, though, with all the talk about mysterious guests coming to the manor, he was beginning to think the letters had more to do with that than anything else.

Maybe it was all just Steve preparing for another group of his friends to join him? 

_ Maybe Rhodey would be coming along with them? _

Feeling more excited than he had been in a while, Tony resigned himself to waiting for Steve to get home to find out.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


It turned out Tony needed to wait quite a while, because Steve did not return until late in the evening. 

Tony had spent the day in guilty idleness, not really able to concentrate on one single task well enough to be of use anywhere in the house. He thought Steve wouldn’t really mind it, though, seeing as he hadn’t left any specific instructions for him in the first place. Still, it didn’t sit too well with him, not having a clear purpose for his day beyond awaiting Steve’s arrival.

He was back in the library, perusing one of the latest additions to the collection, one of a select few books Lord Rogers had brought with him from his town house when a maid alerted him to the Master’s arrival. 

Surprisingly enough, the news came with a note from the man himself. 

Steve’s sharp penmanship was surprisingly comforting as Tony struggled to understand the hidden meaning behind the cursive words.

_ Mr Stark, _

_ I find myself too tired for any kind of work tonight, after the long and very busy day I had. I hope you will excuse my exhaustion, and do me the honour of joining me for breakfast tomorrow morning. There is much to discuss. _

_ Have a pleasant evening, _

_ S.R. _

__

The note served only to confuse Tony even further. It was written in a friendly tone, though maybe a little impersonal for Tony’s liking, but it also contained Steve’s clear wish to be left alone for the night. It would seem he didn’t want Tony to attend to him at all this evening. One could only presume it didn’t just apply to Tony’s secretarial duty, but his other one as well. 

So… Steve didn’t want Tony to visit him in his chambers. A pang of uncertainty went through him. After spending such a night with him, now Steve wished to be apart? Tony could only assume that last night meant much less to Steve than he had previously imagined.

“Sir?” The maid asked, reminding Tony that he had yet to dismiss her. 

“Laura, did Lord Rogers complain about anything upon his return?” he asked, both concerned and determined to get to the bottom of it. “Did he seem at all unwell?”

“No, sir,” she answered kindly. “Though the weather has indeed taken a turn for the worse. It could be that the master has caught a cold while travelling?”

Tony sighed. Great, now even the maids were humouring him. “Thank you, Laura, you may go.”

He closed the book in his hands and placed it back on the shelf, knowing he had no chance of concentrating on anything other than his troubled thoughts any more. 

What could this mean? Was he really expected not to go to Steve for the first time since they took up residence at the manor, almost three months ago? But… what of their arrangement?

Tony knew not what to think. He felt hurt at the dismissal, especially when he compared that note with the intensity of their love-making just hours earlier, and the intense feelings of warmth and contentment it had filled him with, emotions that he had struggled to subdue all through the day. 

Indeed, he feared this new development was most definitely an unwelcome one.

Tony retired early to his rooms, having lost all appetite for dinner, much to Jarvis’ consternation. He changed into his usual nightshirt and ended up pacing back and forth in his rooms, feeling more agitated as the minutes went by. 

Should he have replied to Steve’s note? It was written in such a way that it seemed not to require an answer, but perhaps Tony should have tried to talk to Steve, learn if there was an issue. Maybe he should drop by Steve’s rooms to wish him a good night? If Steve was indeed too tired, or even ill, Tony would just wish him a pleasant evening and excuse himself forthwith. 

Feeling sure in his line of thinking -and brave enough to boot-, Tony made his way for Steve’s rooms, only to be stopped by the locked study door.

He took a step back, regarding the door handle in astonishment. Well. That answered  _ that  _ question at least.

He returned to his room mechanically, only to climb into bed and proceed to bury himself as deep under the duvet as he possibly could. 

Steve had locked him out.

Tony could feel his thoughts spiralling, dragging him into a pit of despair and uncertainty. What a difference from how he’d started this day, the way he was finishing it. 

How much circumstances could change in the course of but a few hours. 

He took a deep breath, trying to settle his racing heart and mind. There was no use in him feeling sorry for himself. Steve had never explicitly said he required Tony’s favour every evening, or that he was thinking of Tony as anything more than a body to find pleasure in. Maybe Tony had indeed made it all up in his head, Steve’s mellowed attitude only a natural outcome of people spending so much time in bed together.

Chances were, Steve was simply too tired to partake in their usual activities. He  _ had  _ been gone almost a day, after all, doing God knows what sort of business. Perhaps he was coming down with some illness, too.

Tony fought not to succumb to his bitter disappointment. They would talk in the morning, and everything would be made clear. 

Who knew what would happen, after all? Perhaps Tony would once again be free to at least hope for something more. 

He closed his eyes, wishing the next day would come sooner, knowing that any sleep he got would probably not bring shelter from his dark thoughts.

Tony’s last thought before he fell asleep was that perhaps this new torment was all part of God’s plan, and that Steve breaking Tony’s heart now was divine justice for Tony doing the same years before. 

* * *

  
  
  


_ It was late in the evening, not even an hour after Tony had returned home from university, when his father summoned him to his study. _

_ The servants had only just brought Tony’s luggage to his rooms, and he was in the middle of unpacking everything with the diligent help of Jarvis. Irritated, but knowing he could scarcely avoid it, Tony left the butler alone to sort through his poorly-packed belongings and went to meet his father. _

_ Lord Howard Stark was sitting behind his desk with a half-full glass in his hand and a half-empty decanter of expensive brandy in front of him. Unfortunately for Tony, this was hardly an unusual sight. _

_ His father’s cold eyes followed him as he walked into the room. _

_ “You asked to see me, sir?” he prompted, and was met with nothing more than an annoyed huff. _

_ “Sit, boy.” He gestured at the uncomfortable wooden chair in front of his large desk. It was almost too plain a piece of furniture to belong in the grandiose study of Lord Howard Stark, but it was no doubt a calculated manoeuvre, a power play.  _

_ This was where Lord Stark conducted most of his business transactions. That position there, sitting on the plain chair while the master of the house loomed above you, was more appropriate for bargaining with a business rival than talking with one’s own son. _

_ Tony gulped, but sat down without protest. He’d had a really bad feeling about this from the first moment he heard the summons. _

_ Minutes stretched on as Tony shifted nervously under his father’s increasingly menacing glare. _

_ “Do you think me a fool, Anthony?” Howard finally said, keeping his voice deceptively quiet.  _

_ Cold sweat ran down Tony’s back. Nothing good would come of this night. _

_ “Of course not, sir,” Tony replied, careful to keep his tone neutral even though he knew nothing he could say would ever satisfy his father. _

_ A nasty smile formed on Howard’s face. “Good. Because I am anything but foolish. You see, I might not always be present, but upon my word, boy, I always know what goes on in my own house.” _

_ Tony tried to hide his surprise. He could honestly not think of anything that had happened lately that could have caused his father’s ire.  _

_ Hell, Tony hadn’t even been back an hour yet! And none of his exploits at university could warrant this. _

_ “Yes, sir...” Even to his own ears, Tony sounded perplexed. _

_ “Yes, sir? Is that all you have to say for yourself?” Now, Howard was fuming, a storm brewing behind his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll be surprised to know that I know all about your affair with that Rogers boy, Anthony! I have often turned a blind eye to your peculiar attachment to this servant, but it has gone too far. You think I’m unaware of the engagement you have entered into with him? You! My son! Engaged to that ungrateful wastrel! He would have been left on the streets to starve to death if it weren’t for me. I gave him employment, a roof over his head and the honour of serving the house of Stark and  _ this  _ is how he repays me? To think that all this time he was a viper in my bosom, just waiting to release its venom! Make no mistake, I will deal with that boy once I am done with you.” _

_ Tony paled, unable to believe what he had just heard. His mind was quick to come to Steve’s aid, even if his heart was still processing all he’d learned. _

_ “Father, please see reason. I know not of what engagement you think there is between us…” _

_ He yelped in panic when the glass in his father’s hand suddenly flew right over his head, shattering into pieces on the floor nearby.  _

_ “You dare lie to my face! I know he means to propose to you, Anthony! I saw the ring with my own eyes. A servant, a nobody, married to the Stark heir? Unacceptable!” _

_ Howard dragged his chair back and got up to start pacing back and forth.  _

_ Tony stayed frozen in place, completely helpless when confronted with the worst of his father’s wrath. Still reeling, he tried to take in all the information Howard had thought him already privy to. _

_ Steve had gotten him a ring? He was planning to propose? _

_ “What has he to offer you, Anthony, huh? Money? Connections? Fame, perhaps? What?” Howard yelled, coming to loom over him.  _

_ Tony knew he shouldn’t be letting his father treat him like that, not anymore. He wasn’t a child, someone Howard could terrorize, not anymore.  _

_ Tony was an adult now, and Lord Howard Stark was nothing but a brute and a bully.  _

_ And Steve… Steve loved him. Damn it all, but Tony loved him back. _

_ He pursed his lips, determined to confront his father.  _

_ What did Steve have to offer him, huh? _

_ “Love, Father. Steve  _ loves  _ me. It is more than I could ever say about anyone you would approve of-” _

_ The loud slap reverberated through the room, his cheek smarting immediately. _

_ Tony wondered if any passing servants had heard it. He knew there were tears in his eyes, and he cursed his weak self for them. _

_ “You are a Stark. Stark men are made of iron. Love is for fools, boy,” Howard spat at his face. _

_ Tony raised his eyes to meet his father's. This, more than anything, was a battle of wills, and Tony was determined to win. _

_ “You cannot make me change my-” he argued, full of spite. Again, he was interrupted.  _

_ Howard’s tone was ice cold when he uttered his next words. “If you dare accept his proposal, Anthony, I will make sure Steve Rogers not only loses his commission but that he is stationed at the heart of the war, as the lowest of foot soldiers. He will not last the week, do you hear me? Mark my words, boy.”  _

_ Tony’s heart sank. No. He wouldn’t dare… _

_ Then again, this was his father, and Howard Stark was nothing if not ruthless and efficient. Could Tony really risk it being an empty threat? _

_ “Father, please, be reasonable. You always liked Steve...” Tony all but begged. _

_ Looking down at Tony, Howard only scoffed, unmoved by Tony’s plight. _

_ “A connection to him would ruin the Stark’s good name in society. Rogers can go to hell, for all I care. His fate is in your hands, Anthony. Make no mistake, I will cut off all my support to him immediately. I. Will. Ruin. Him.” _

_ The slow, precise way he spoke those last words sent cold shivers down Tony’s spine. He had no doubt his father meant every single threat. _

_ “Please, Father,” he tried again, desperate.  _

_ Howard scoffed at him being so distraught. He shook his head, as if disgusted at his son’s weakness. “Swear that you will refuse him. Swear that you will make it absolutely clear to the boy that you don’t have any interest in him whatsoever and you never did. Explain that he is so fundamentally beneath you he should never have even dreamed of the possibility of such a connection! Swear this to me, Anthony!” _

_ Tears ran freely on Tony’s face now. “Father…” he sobbed, desperation pouring from every pore of his being. _

_ But Howard wouldn’t budge. He approached him once more, then bent down, whispering his final words on the matter directly into Tony’s ear. _

_ “I will have him killed, Anthony. God have mercy on me, I will.” _

_ Everything stopped.  _

_ Tony paled, not breathing, just barely holding on.  _

_ Killed. Howard would have Steve killed for this. For Tony. _

_ His father had just won the battle and the war with one single word. _

_ Killed. _

_ And in fact it was as if something had actually died in Tony, that very moment. The hope for a bright future, one with love -and therefore Steve- in it. Murdered by his own father. _

_ Tony would never risk Steve’s life. Not for anything. Not for money, power, or even the only chance at happiness he was probably going to get. _

_ “Very well,” he whispered, having the fight worn out of him.  _

_ He raised his gaze and looked once more upon the man that was his father. Judge, jury and executioner, more like.  _

_ He felt dead inside. _

_ “I will do as you command, Father. Just, please…Don’t hurt him.” _

_ At that, just like a spell had been in place and Tony had uttered the magic words to break it, Howard Stark instantly deflated. He nodded once, and then looked around him, almost perplexed, as if only now noticing the mess of glass around them. _

_ He cleared his throat, seeming convinced enough of Tony’s sincerity to drop the matter.  _

_ “I am glad you finally see reason,” he said, moving away from Tony and back to the comfort of his desk, and the alcohol resting upon it.  _

_ He gestured to the door, dismissing Tony with one final piece of advice. _

_ “Make sure he leaves you alone, and he’ll have nothing to fear from me...” _

_ Eyes lowered, Tony nodded curtly and fled. _

__

* * *

  
  
  
  


Tony adjusted his shirt collar one last time, finally managing to make it sit properly in place. He took a final look in the mirror, regarding his reflection with a slight frown. He would be lying if he said he was satisfied with his appearance. He looked ill, his complexion pale and his eyes marred by dark circles. 

Tony had been plagued by dark thoughts, his mind drifting back to that awful conversation in his father’s study all those years ago, and those painful memories had given way to fresh nightmares that had kept him from managing any proper rest. 

Making his way slowly downstairs, Tony tried once again to put his thoughts in order. It was a vicious circle, and he was doomed to be trapped in it with no logical way out.

Why was it that he felt so unnerved from  _ not  _ spending the night in bed with Steve? As soon as the thought formed in his head, the answer was evident. Tony, for all his self-doubt, had really started to hope that Steve was coming round. Them not sleeping together after weeks spent in each other’s arms felt like a step back. 

But was it, really? Steve had left early and had spent hours away on business. It was only natural that he would feel worn out and that he’d want rest. It didn’t mean that he did it to deliberately reject Tony, or to keep him from becoming too comfortable with their arrangement. 

But then, did he really have to lock the door?

Tony felt out of sorts. Perhaps he had indeed been wrong to hope Steve’s love for him could ever return. Last night’s behaviour certainly implied that. Most likely, Tony was seeing things as he wished them to be, once again making a fool of himself. 

He certainly wouldn’t call himself impartial, least of all where Steve was concerned.

Maybe Steve, while willing to forgive Tony, didn’t see him as anything more than a friend and a convenient paramour. 

In his note, Steve had claimed to be too tired to receive him, and Tony had no reason to believe Steve would lie to him. In fact, he had been nothing but completely honest throughout their entire acquaintance, both now and in the past. It was only Tony who had been dishonest.

Now that he’d been reunited with Steve, Tony didn’t know if he could bear him drawing back, moving away from him once more. If nothing else, Tony wanted to be selfish, this time around. He wanted to keep Steve, in any way he could. If being just his friend again was as far as Steve was willing to go, then Tony would be content with that. 

Anything was better than not having Steve at all.

Despite all the pain, the agony and suffering that he had come to face since, Tony would never allow himself to regret what he had done. He had lied, had been awful and dishonest, but he had done it all for Steve. In hindsight, Steve had been the one able to move on, to heal from what Tony had done, and that was all that mattered.

Walking towards Steve, a feeling of foreboding coursing through him, Tony recalled that fateful day that had left scars on them both.

* * *

_ Tony hadn’t slept at all. He had worried over the issue until the early hours of dawn, but he hadn’t found a way out. More than anything, he wished he could disregard his father's threats, but he knew very well how dangerous Lord Howard Stark could be, especially to a man already at his mercy, like Steve. _

_ God, Steve had sent him a note to meet him in Tony’s room any moment now. He would be coming to propose to him, and Tony, he had to… _

_ Why couldn’t they just leave? Why couldn’t he take Steve and leave this cursed place, run away, build a new life on their own?  _

_ Of course, Tony knew that could never come to be. Howard would stop at nothing to get his heir back. And Steve would definitely end up paying with his life. _

_ There was a single knock on the door and then someone was entering. Tony didn’t have to turn to know who it was. Other than his father, there was only one person in the entire manor that had the audacity to enter Tony’s rooms without waiting for an answer, and he was the last person Tony wanted to see right now. _

_ “Tony, you’re back!” Steve said brightly, sounding closer than Tony expected. Tony’s thoughts came to a halt. _

_ It was time, wasn’t it? _

_ He tried a greeting but his voice just wouldn’t come out. He shut his eyes, tight. No time for tears now. Tony had to do this. For Steve, to keep him safe, he had to.  _

_ Come on, Tony.  _

_ Stark men are made of iron. _

_ His mind made up, he lifted his head, discreetly wiping away the few errant tears that had escaped. Slowly, he turned to face Steve, the love of his life, knowing that very soon he would most likely break the man’s heart completely. _

_ Steve was standing close, smiling at him in a completely guileless way. He seemed overjoyed to see Tony again, and it was making this all even more difficult than Tony thought it would be. Tired as he was from not getting any sleep, Tony found himself enthralled by the captivating sight Steve presented. _

_ He was clad in the most formal clothes he owned, Tony noticed. A dark, modest jacket over a white linen shirt and black breeches hung on his somewhat lanky form, making it evident that they hadn’t originally been made for him. His handsome face was for once clean of the sweat and dirt that came with working in the stables. He even looked like he had tried to comb his hair into submission, though the results seemed to be somewhat lacking.  _

_ To Tony, he was absolutely breathtaking. _

_ “Tony…?” Steve repeated, a worried frown clear on his features. His eyes roamed over Tony’s figure.  _

_ “Are you alright? You look exhausted, was it a very tiring journey?” _

_ Tony cleared his throat. “Erm, yes, I guess you could say that,” he lied, stalling. _

_ Tony couldn’t do this.  _

_ He had to. _

_ Steve drew nearer, a hopeful look dawning on his handsome face. He played awkwardly with his hands, a remnant of his boyish days when he had at times been too shy to speak his mind in front of the young Master Stark. _

_ “Tony, I missed you so much…” he said reverently. He was regarding Tony with such unguarded love that it left Tony hollow to know what he had to do next.  _

_ “Yes, well...it’s been a busy year for the both of us, I guess,” he muttered, still avoiding the inevitable confrontation.  _

_ “I must have reread every letter you sent me a hundred times! What’s the name of that new friend of yours? And you thought you wouldn’t meet any interesting people in Oxford...” Steve said, and moved to touch Tony’s arm. _

_ Tony knew he couldn’t let him do that, for he would be unable to proceed with what Howard had demanded of him if he did. He took a small step backwards, gently disengaging himself from Steve’s soft grip. _

_ “What do you want, Steve?” he asked in a monotone, dreading what he knew was going to follow.  _

_ Steve straightened his posture, gathering himself together. Tony could feel he was preparing for something important, and he knew exactly what that was, too. _

_ “Tony…” Steve began, undeterred by Tony’s unusual behaviour, probably attributing it to Tony’s tiring trip home, “I’ve known you for the longest… No, that’s not right. Tony, before you left, you said… Well...” he trailed off, looking momentarily lost. _

_ “Tony,” he started again, this time determined. “I think you know what I want to say. Maybe you’ve always known. You are the light in my life, my first thought in the morning and my last at night. I know we agreed that we’d wait, but my orders came, and it looks like I have to leave for the war front tomorrow. I couldn’t leave without asking you this first. I can’t take the risk of me dying without having asked for your hand in marriage. So, there you have it. Will you marry me, Tony? Be mine? You must know already that I am forever yours...” _

_ During his speech, Steve had gotten to one knee, and ended with holding up the engagement ring, offering it to Tony with a shy but hopeful smile. _

_ Why, dear God, did Steve have to be so utterly perfect? _

_ The ring looked too expensive for someone of Steve’s station, and Tony mused that it probably was. It was a finely crafted band of gold, plain but for one small ruby set in the middle, and Tony couldn’t help but think how fitting it would look on his ring-finger.  _

_ Steve’s beautiful eyes shone bright and full of hope as he waited for Tony’s answer. _

_ Tony’s heart beat rapidly. He wanted to say yes. He wanted it so badly. But he knew he couldn’t. And it wouldn’t be enough for him to just refuse the offer kindly, would it? _

_ Steve -stubborn, beloved, wonderful Steve- would never take no for an answer. He would persist, he would keep the flame of their love alive for as long as he breathed, Tony was certain of it. _

_ And if Tony wanted him to be safe, to have a chance to live, and maybe even make it a good life too, he would have to make Steve let him go.  _

_ He would have to really hurt him, too. There was no other way this would work. Steve had to be convinced Tony was completely indifferent to him. Only then would he really let him go.  _

_ Steve was the kind of man who loved fully and gave himself to his loved ones completely. If he ever suspected the real reason behind Tony’s change of heart, there would be no telling how he would react. He might even end up confronting Howard, and then Tony’s father would no doubt go through with his threat. _

_ Tony took a deep breath. This was it.  _

_ He had to be swift, cruel, and most of all convincing. _

_ “Is this a joke?” Tony said, voice sounding hollow to his own ears. He scoffed, pointing at the beautiful ring. “What is this nonsense, Steve?” _

_ He could see the exact moment when his words registered in Steve’s head. That bright, beautiful smile dropped from his face, an expression of bewilderment replacing it. _

_ “Tony…?” Steve asked, confused more than anything else. _

_ Tony hardened his heart to stone. He couldn’t afford to break down now, no matter how harrowing the sight of Steve, lost and begging, still on one knee in front of him, was.  _

_ No, Tony couldn’t afford to be weak. He had to be strong, had to break Steve’s heart.  _

_ Save him by breaking him. _

_ “Did you really think  _ you  _ ever had a chance of marrying  _ me _? You? A mere servant? Marry the Stark heir? Ha! That is hilarious…” he exclaimed, letting out an unamused scoff. _

_ Steve’s face darkened. The hand holding the ring dropped listlessly to his side, his gaze still fixed on Tony. _

_ It burned through Tony. Disbelief, hurt, betrayal. The emotions swirled inside Steve's eyes so clearly Tony had to turn away. _

_ He was only human, for godsake. How much could he take before he broke? _

_ Taking a deep breath, Tony tried to collect himself and prepared for Steve’s response. _

_ There was a shuffle as Steve got up, but then there was nothing. No accusations, no exclamations of disbelief, nothing but silence. _

_ When Steve finally spoke, he sounded hoarse “I… I don’t understand,” he said mutely. “I thought that we...That you…” _

_ Tony hurried to interrupt him.  _

_ “You thought what?” he asked harshly, turning to face Steve again.“That just because I spent some time in your company, it meant I had feelings for you? Ha! It’s laughable to say the least. I admit I may have indulged myself a bit too much, but there’s so little one can do out here in the country, one must find  _ some  _ way to pass their time! Surely you knew that nothing could ever happen between us?” _

_ Tony was challenging Steve to rise to the bait, deliberately mocking him. But Steve continued to plead, nobly stubborn to the end, though Tony could see he was on the verge of tears. _

_ “You said that, if I make something of myself in the army, I could come here as your equal and…” Steve’s voice broke, unable to finish the sentence.  _

_ Steve -his poor, brave Steve- was still trying to make Tony see sense. He was still pleading his case, still fighting for them, still refusing to accept Tony’s words as the truth. _

_ No. Tony couldn’t break now. He had come so far. He had to do this. Steve’s life depended on it. _

_ Tony had to leave no doubt of his indifference if he was going to make Steve believe him. Feigning nonchalance, he replied, “Well, you’re certainly not my equal, are you?”  _

_ Steve’s look hardened. Tony pushed him even more.  _

_ “Oh, come on, Steve!” he exclaimed, letting out a fake laugh. “I was merely humouring you, you must realise that…” _

_ His jabs finally had the desired effect. Steve’s face closed off, tensing up as if he had just been slapped. His body went rigid, and then it was like someone cut his strings and he sagged, the fight finally leaving him.  _

_ “I see…” he murmured. Tony held his breath. When their eyes met, it was clear there was nothing but misery and despair left inside Steve. He looked like a broken shell of himself.  _

_ Gathering himself once more, Steve gave Tony a final nod and slowly made his way out of Tony’s room, and out of his life, forever. _

_ When the doors were closed behind him, Tony’s legs finally gave up. _

  
  
  
  


* * *

“Are you sure you’re alright, Mr Stark?” Steve asked, visibly worried. Over his shoulder, Jarvis kept throwing concerned glances at him. 

Tony sighed internally. Great, he was  _ that  _ obvious.

“I’m fine,” he replied, giving both men a polite smile that probably came out more pained than anything else. “Just had a little trouble sleeping”. 

Steve seemed unconvinced but, after an awkward moment of silence, he cleared his throat and remarked upon the weather. Undoubtedly, he had understood the double meaning of Tony’s words, but chose not to address them yet. Seeing as there were other people still in the room with them, Tony wasn’t blaming him.

“Thank you, Jarvis. You can all go now. We’ll call if we need you,” Steve said, after Jarvis served him and Tony a cup of freshly brewed tea. The old butler took a step back and bowed, though Tony could tell he was still a little alarmed by the stilted exchange between Tony and Steve. He probably thought they were having a lovers’ spat. Well, he wasn’t that far from the truth, if Tony was to be honest with himself. 

He tried to allay Jarvis’ worry with a nod, though it didn’t seem to work, so he returned to idly playing with his food while the servants quietly made their exit. 

Steve was clearly waiting for the room to clear out before he addressed him again.

“You’ve hardly eaten anything, this morning. Are you truly alright?” he asked once more, concerned and finally free to drop any pretence at formality.

“I was telling you the truth. I couldn’t sleep last night.” Tony replied. 

Steve hummed but didn’t add anything else. Minutes passed in silence. 

Not able to bear the uncertainty any longer, Tony decided to be brave. If Steve wasn’t willing to talk about the matter of his own accord, maybe Tony could prompt him into it. He put down his cup, the click of the porcelain loud in his ears, almost startling. Steve had turned to watch him again, with that strange look of contemplation that had been painted on his face since Tony first entered the dining room.

“I...Steve, may I ask? Are you... displeased with me?”

Steve frowned, surprise clear on his face. “What do you mean?”

Now that he’d begun, Tony found himself unable to stop. 

“Is that why you locked the door to your study? Why you said you didn’t want my company? Have I done something to displease you?”

Steve was definitely avoiding looking directly at Tony. He shifted in place, clearly uncomfortable. It left Tony feeling on edge more than anything else. 

Finally, Steve, instead of replying, got up and walked to the edge of the room, absently looking out of the windows.

Tony’s anxiety spiked as the silence dragged on. After a few more moments, just as Tony was sure he was never going to get an answer and would surely go mad, Steve shook his head. 

“No, Tony. You didn’t do anything wrong…” he said, turning to look at Tony. With his back to the window, the glare of the sun kept Tony from clearly seeing his expressions.

Tony felt some of his fears ease. Perhaps he had been overthinking things, as usual. 

“Then, I can come to you again tonight?” He dared to smile, feeling somewhat hopeful.

The smile dropped from his lips when he met Steve’s guarded eyes. “Tony,” Steve said, and he sounded...remorseful. 

He moved again, approaching Tony almost cautiously. “I...Look. I wanted to speak to you sooner, but I didn’t get the chance.”

Tony didn’t like the sound of that. What was Steve going to say? Was he going to let Tony down softly, tell him he was aware of Tony’s lingering affections and that he was disturbed, even repulsed by them? Then he thought back to what he’d learned the day before. Could this have to do with the secret guests he wasn’t supposed to know of? 

He felt both worried and intrigued, but ultimately too tired to spend any more brainpower pondering it. He’d know soon enough, either way. 

“I don’t know if you’ll have heard of this by now, though I specifically asked the staff not to tell you so that I could inform you myself...” Steve’s tone was a bit chiding, so Tony felt obliged to intervene.

“Please don’t get cross with Jarvis. It was one of the maids. She said you’re expecting guests?” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Indeed. Well, my trip to Shuntington yesterday was in part due to their arrival. I needed to speak with the mayor and my solicitor. These past weeks, I’ve been presented with a remarkable opportunity, one that could mean a great deal for the estate as well as the land surrounding it. I was contacted by an old army acquaintance who’s been working these last few years as a freelance engineer, who learned about my purchasing these lands. He works for the Midland Railway Company and they are interested in having the railway pass through here. “

That caught Tony completely by surprise. “The railway?” he repeated, astonished.

Steve nodded. “Yes. And there’s even more, they plan to build a station near Shuntington village.”

Tony’s mind was reeling with all the information. It was something that he could never have guessed, but very quickly he saw how amazing an opportunity it presented for the estate and all its holdings and tenants, and the neighbouring lands as well.

“Why, Steve, that is a brilliant idea! The profit such an investment would bring to you, to your tenants. I can’t believe you managed to keep this from me for so long!” he said, making a half hearted accusation more for a show than anything else. “So, these guests that are coming, I’m assuming they’re connected to this somehow?” he finished.

“Some of them sit on the board of the Midland Railway Company. My friend will also be amongst them. The major shareholder of the company will be joining them, as well. I understand he’s the only one who perhaps is still a little hesitant about the investment,” Steve explained.

“Oh, then, we will need to make sure he overcomes whatever hesitation there is…” Tony nodded, mind already busy with calculations and ideas. All previous thoughts and worries were forgotten in an instant.

Steve nodded. “Indeed. You understand now, why it was important no word got out about this venture before everything was settled? The competition we’d face...”

Tony grudgingly agreed. He knew for a fact Lord Justin of Purney Lodge would be seething if he found out the Stark Estate was in the process of brokering such a deal. No indeed, the secrecy more than made sense.

“Now, about what you asked earlier…” Steve continued, somewhat reluctant.

“Hmm?” Tony replied, momentarily confused, before realising Steve was referring to Tony’s initial inquiries. His cheeks reddened, ashamed. He had been distracted enough by the prospect of such a huge investment that he had temporarily forgotten about his previous worries. 

“Tony…” Steve repeated. He had turned to face Tony and at that moment looked more sombre than ever before. Tony felt doubt and uncertainty creeping up to him once more. It was all increased by the height difference between them, his still seated self small in front of Steve’s proud upright form.

“I spent most of yesterday thinking how I should go about telling you this,” Steve paused and then sighed. He was visibly distraught. Tony knew then and there, with a certainty only experience could bring, that he wasn’t going to like whatever it was Steve had to say. After a moment, the other continued, this time looking determined, more like the hailed military captain than Tony had ever seen him before.

“I have come to regret accepting the final,  _ carnal  _ part of your proposal, Tony. I recognise now I made a decision in a moment of weakness. I’ve behaved far from honourably, Tony, and believe me when I say I truly regret it. I wanted you to know that you are no longer obligated to offer your...services to me, not like  _ that,  _ at least. The rest of our deal can go on as is, but you… you don’t need to worry about continuing our nightly arrangement any more.”

Tony was left speechless, mouth gaping at hearing his fears coming to life in the worst way possible. Not only did Steve not care for him, he didn’t even seem to want him in his bed anymore.

Steve regretted accepting their deal… He felt it hadn’t been  _ honourable…  _ but of course it wasn’t honourable, what else could sexual relations unsanctioned by marriage be other than not honourable? Why did it have to take him months to realise? What had changed between when they started and now?

Steve was concerned about honour, of course he was. Tony would laugh if he wasn’t on the brink of crying from sheer frustration alone. How typically Steve of him to be worried about that sort of thing. Tony had never felt obligated to offer himself to Steve. On the contrary; that idea, wild and forbidden as it had felt when it first came to him, had grown to be something Tony was grateful for. Tony supposed Steve thought he was sparing him trouble. He was doing it for Tony’s sake, as well as his own. That he’d even thought of Tony’s honour, in addition to his own, besmirched as it was after all that had happened to him these last years. He thought Steve would expect him to feel grateful.

But the only thing Tony could feel right now was rejected. 

How on earth could he convince the man that he had come to think of sleeping with him not as an obligation but as a gift to be treasured?

Steve, ignorant of Tony’s internal turmoil, continued. “And it would be even harder to do so now, with our new guests arriving so soon.”

“Your previous guests certainly didn’t keep you from using my  _ services… _ ” Tony replied curtly, unable to keep the hurt from his face. He had almost forgotten about the arriving party, after the blow he’d received.

It was Steve’s turn to wince. He nodded, accepting Tony’s pointed remark, and explained further.

“I forgot to mention it to Jarvis yesterday, but I’m afraid you will have to give up your current room for one of our esteemed guests. I already mentioned the company’s major shareholder is coming, but what I failed to tell you is that he is none other than his Lordship, the Earl of Valomney himself. So you understand, Tony, that he must take the finest room in the house other than my own. I can’t have someone of a lower standing staying in the Lady’s rooms while Lord Stone takes a common guest room.” 

Lord Stone.

No.

This couldn’t possibly be happening.

Tony’s heart was beating wildly against his chest. He felt dread, but tried to calm himself. 

“I thought Lord Bartholomew was too old to be travelling,” Tony remarked, trying to sound unaffected. He knew he was failing from the worried looks Steve was once again giving him.

How dare he pretend to care when, not moments ago, he had all but thrown Tony out of his life, determined to keep him as nothing more than a secretary.

“Tony, Lord Bartholomew passed months ago. His son holds the title now,” Steve said slowly, as if he had thought that common knowledge.

“Tiberius?” Tony asked, though he knew that there could be no one else. He supposed he looked as distraught as he felt, because Steve’s face darkened when he heard the stilted word coming from Tony’s lips.

Tony was glad he was still seated. He’d gone through so many emotions so quickly that he felt drained of all energy. He took a sip of water, trying to wash the bitter taste of Tiberius’ name from his mouth.

“You know him?” he heard Steve ask from beside him.

Tony closed his eyes. 

He could still hear Tiberius’ drawling voice as if he were right there beside him.

_ You look lovely tonight, my Anthony. A jewel fit to decorate the crown of a King…  _

_ You need to trust me, Anthony. My only concern is your wellbeing… _

_ You are a true temptation. You’re devil sent, aren’t you?  _

_ You think anyone will believe you? You’re a disgrace, Stark. This is the only thing you’re good for, Anthony...  _

_ Hold still, damn you!  _

He opened his eyes, feeling empty and broken beyond repair. What Tony would give  _ not  _ to know Tiberius Stone... But, alas, he did.

Tiberius was coming here. Steve had invited him.

God, what was Tony going to do?

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys enjoyed it. Please let me know your thoughts.
> 
> Take care, everyone ❤️


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, I'm back!  
> Sorry for taking so long to update, real life had to come first. I should be picking up a better pace with this from now on.
> 
> Special thanks to EachPeachPearPlum for being both an awesome beta and a very supportive friend and of course to my cheerleader, my beloved AvengersNewB!

“As you see, everything is set for tomorrow, my lord,” Miss Potts stated with confidence as they finished the tour of the newly refurbished guest rooms. Steve hummed in approval, nodding his head while taking in his surroundings with interest. Furniture dressed with beautiful linens and pale coloured drapes over window sills and arches, complex flower arrangements and plates of fresh fruit on the tables... Miss Potts had definitely outdone herself. Steve appreciated both her and Jarvis’ hard work, even more so when he had given them such a short notice.

At his side, Tony, who accompanied Steve in this last check of the manor, remained silent.

Steve could understand Tony hardly saying a word to him all day, but the man had barely spoken to Miss Potts too, and the woman had tried hard to coax a reaction out of him. 

Steve sighed. Tony’s quiet dismissal smarted, especially when he inadvertently compared it to the warm familiarity that had grown between the two of them in the last few weeks.

But, in the end, Steve’s hurt feelings shouldn’t matter. He knew he deserved Tony’s coldness. He accepted that, accepted  _ it _ . 

Steve understood now that he had made a mistake with the way he had dealt with Tony. He should have behaved better, more honourably, instead of letting passion overcome him. Because that was what it had been in the end. He could fool himself no longer, pretending he had ever gotten over Tony.

No, Steve had let his pent up desire and longing to completely overtake his reason and had as a result ended up all but taking advantage of Tony in a time of need. 

All those years Steve had spent trying to convince himself that he’d gotten over Tony, that their relationship had never been anything more than a boy’s silly fancy... It had all come crumbling down the moment Tony Stark had reappeared in his life.

He could have  _ \- should  _ have - handled it better.

Damn it all, Steve was better than this.

Despite everything that happened, though, there was still hope left. He had learned long ago that, in this world, only death was absolute.

So, Steve had a plan, now.

First, he needed to get to the bottom of this business with Stane and Stark Company. The more Steve thought of it - the more he connected the dots - the more convinced he was that the blame for Tony’s supposed acts of treason, for so much of Tony’s infamy, actually lay somewhere else entirely. He was certain Tony had many of the answers, though he wasn’t sure how willing he would be to share the information with him. Steve didn’t think he had the right to ask him for answers, nor was he under the illusion his enquiries on the matter would be welcome.

God. The injustice of it all  _ infuriated  _ Steve.

If what he suspected was true, if Stane had somehow framed Tony for the fall of Stark Company, then that meant Tony had spent years of his life trying to fix a mess he hadn’t been responsible for in the first place. All the persecution, the infamy attached to his name, all of Tony’s so-called sins… they were unjust, false accusations.

It drove Steve mad. He needed to know, to ask Tony, but first, he would need to regain Tony’s trust. 

“Did you manage to make up a room for me yet, Pepper?” Tony’s soft tone startled Steve out of his musings. 

Shame pressed down on Steve’s chest like a burning anvil. He knew, logically, that he’d made the right decision when he had Tony move out of the rooms adjoining his, but he couldn’t help feeling guilty. It felt like he was taking Tony’s home from him all over again.

It would have been a show of extremely poor manners - not to mention a terrible breach of protocol - if Steve were not to provide Lord Stone, an earl, with the best rooms in the house and instead gave them to a person under his employment. He might not have been born to this station, but even he knew that much.

He was also aware they needed to make a good impression on the earl if the deal were to come through. Steve fervently wanted to start making things right, for the estate, the staff, most of all for  _ Tony _ , and this deal was a much-needed step in that direction.

He shivered as he recalled Tony, wide-eyed and timid, asking if Steve was  _ displeased  _ with him.

Tony had looked so lost that Steve had wished he could soothe Tony’s worries instead of cause them for once. He’d almost lost his nerve right then, but reason had ultimately prevailed. Tony might hurt now, but Steve knew he would soon get over it, would realise very quickly he was far better off without that damned deal in the first place. 

Miss Potts paused perhaps a little longer than necessary. 

“Of course, Tony,” she replied, kindly, in a way that reminded Steve of a mother soothing her crying child. 

Steve turned his head surreptitiously, just in time to see Miss Potts rest Tony a comforting hand on his shoulder. A lump formed in his throat and he hurriedly turned away. 

Tony was safer away from Steve. Once he got over the initial rejection, Steve knew Tony would appreciate not having a constant reminder of them and their nights spent together so close to his own private space. 

And, as cowardly as it made him feel, Steve also needed the distance between them. He wasn’t entirely sure if he could trust himself with Tony, more specifically with Tony’s honour, not when Tony was clearly still willing to continue their arrangement and their nights together were still so vivid in his mind. He was afraid the temptation would be too great. The ache of not being able to touch Tony, not being able to hold him in his arms, was hitting Steve harder than he had thought it would, and he knew from experience that it would only grow worse with time.

Steve never knew how weak a man he was until Tony came back in his life. Every day presented another test, a new struggle to overcome both his base desires and his worse self.

If - no,  _ when -  _ Steve got to the bottom of what had happened with Stane and the Stark Company, there was a good chance Tony’s name would be cleared. He wouldn’t have to depend on Steve anymore. Tony would be free to pursue whatever and whomever he wanted.

It would be a new beginning, hopefully for both of them. 

* * *

  
  
  


The next day, a very windy autumn morning, their much-awaited guests finally arrived. 

No sooner than they had sight of the first carriage turning on the lane, Steve, along with Tony, Jarvis and a few of the servants, had taken their places on the steps of the main entrance to the house, ready to greet everyone properly. 

First to arrive was the carriage belonging to the Misters Carruthers. Leopold Carruthers and his husband Jonathan Walters-Carruthers were a pair of older, distinguished gentlemen, both of whom held high positions in the hierarchy of the Midland Railway Company. Mr Carruthers had a seat on the board of the company, while his husband served as their chief financial advisor. Steve had learned what he knew about the pair via his own contact within the company, his good friend Timothy Dugan.

They were followed by Steve’s old friend, Mr Dugan, who arrived just minutes behind them. A tall, rather hard-looking man, with the signature stiff posture that betrayed his military background, he looked almost uncomfortable in his immaculate clothes as he got off his coach. 

The servants ran about in a hurry to unload the luggage as Dugan waited near the doors with a raised hand to help the ladies in his company disembark. First came a kind-looking redhead, who Steve guessed probably was Mrs Dugan, followed by another. Surprise mixed with pleasure as Steve almost immediately recognized the second woman, even though she had changed a lot in the years since he’d last seen her. 

Last time he’d laid his eyes on Miss Sharon Carter, she would have been barely fifteen years old, more a child than a woman, really. It was during a visit to Sharon’s father’s - Peggy’s favourite uncle - estate, long before Lady Rogers had ever fallen ill. 

Sharon looked around with curiosity, taking in the sight of the house with a mischievous smile suited to her youth. It became wider when she finally spotted Steve.

“Your lordship,” Dugan greeted formally, giving a small, awkward bow that made Steve think back to all the times he’d greeted him with a military salute instead. 

“Allow me to introduce my wife, Beatrice, and her dear friend, with whom I understand you are already acquainted.”

Mrs Dugan happily offered her gloved hand for Steve to kiss.

“Welcome! Mrs Dugan, for once your husband didn’t lie when he claimed you were a vision of loveliness!” Steve teased, and then turned to Sharon with a grin. “And, oh, what a surprise! It’s good to see you, cousin,” he said, feeling genuine joy at the sight of her. 

“It’s so good to see you after all this time, my lord,” she replied warmly, her bright eyes sparkling with delight. 

Someone cleared their throat and Steve turned, remembering his duties as host. 

His guests had started walking towards the house, though they had soon stopped when they saw who else was waiting there for them.

Steve stepped in to make the expected introductions, though he doubted they were actually needed. There were few people in society more recognisable than the fallen-from-grace former Lord Anthony Stark.

“Do forgive me. Mr Dugan, Mrs Dugan, Miss Carter, Misters Carruthers... please allow me to introduce my secretary, Mr Stark,” Steve said, coming to stand beside Tony, unable to resist the urge to shield him as much as he could from their stares.

“Delighted. Sir, madam. My lady,” Tony replied politely, in an almost demure fashion, his form poised as he gave a respectful little bow to each of them in turn.

Steve held his breath, waiting for their reactions. The Carruthers seemed stiff but nodded back. The same couldn’t be said for the rest. Both ladies looked more than a little surprised at Tony’s presence, while Dugan stood stiff, oozing disapproval, most likely appalled by the notion that the infamous Tony Stark was a member of Steve’s own household. 

Knowing the kind of gossip that went around the capital concerning Tony, their demeanour was far from unexpected. Still, their reactions put a damper on Steve’s previously light mood. 

He was about to gesture for an escort to take his guests to their rooms when a ruckus alerted them all to the impending arrival of the last member of their expected party. 

The earl arrived in a splendour of gold, his six-horse carriage more a statement of wealth than a means of transport. Two of his valets hurried to open the doors and soon, the newly named Earl of Valomney, Lord Tiberius Stone himself, stepped out to meet with the rest of them. 

Steve composed himself swiftly and moved to greet his most distinguished guest. 

Mr Dugan, who had already approached them, made the expected introductions.

“Your lordship,” Steve offered, “Welcome to Stark Manor. It’s an honour to finally meet you in person.”

Tiberius Stone was a tall man - almost as tall as Steve - with assessing, blue eyes and pale blond hair hidden under a top hat. He had a lean but graceful figure, with broad shoulders that suggested strength hidden under that expensive-looking jacket. He was the sort of person who demanded the complete attention of his audience every time he spoke.

He was accompanied by a rather strict looking, no-nonsense kind of woman, who introduced herself simply as Miss Hill.

Lord Stone nodded, apparently satisfied with Steve’s demeanour.

“The honour is all mine, Lord Rogers,” he replied smoothly. “Tales of your accomplishments have reached me for years, and I admit I longed to finally meet you. You’re one of our country’s more lauded heroes, after all.” 

He spoke in that bored, uninterested tone most men of Stone’s station used when talking with people they deemed inferior. Steve had to remind himself of the vow he had recently made to not pass his judgment on others too quickly.

He regretted it mere moments later.

“So, the rumours are true after all,” Lord Stone exclaimed as his eyes finally landed on the person he’d been looking for. 

In the back of Steve’s mind, the memory of Tony softly exhaling  _ Tiberius  _ gnawed on Steve’s fragile equanimity like a starved dog with a particularly juicy bone. 

It had been all too obvious that Tony and Lord Stone knew each other, but Steve had hoped he was blowing things out of proportion.

“My dear Anthony. You look so well. It eases my mind to know you’re being so very well  _ taken care of _ , especially after all that has befallen you,” he purred, the annoying tone now dripping with feign concern.

Steve fumed silently. What did this man know of Tony’s misfortunes? How dare he talk about such matters in public? 

Tony, visibly uncomfortable at the earl’s attention, bowed slightly and forced a smile onto his face. Emboldened, Stone pushed the boundaries of propriety even further, grasping Tony’s limp hand to bring it to his mouth.

“Lord Stone,” Tony said after a moment. Dismayed, Steve noted Tony’s voice sounded almost breathless.

Something wild inside Steve’s soul roared, protesting the sight. He walked up to them, clearing his throat very deliberately.

“You must all be tired from the journey,” he offered with a tight smile. “Let us move inside. The servants will take your luggage to your rooms. You’re welcome to rest if you need to, after your journey. There will be refreshments in the drawing room waiting for you whenever you’re ready.”

* * *

  
  


Dinner was rather unremarkable, considering everything. After their initial surprise at being introduced to Tony, Steve’s guests seemed to have adapted very quickly to the man’s presence in the room. Mostly they avoided addressing Tony entirely, though they dutifully exchanged pleasantries with one another. For his part, Tony really didn’t seem to mind being overlooked.

At least the food had been excellent.

After dinner, Sharon and Mrs Dugan expressed their desire for music and promptly set a course for the music room. The rest of them decided to settle in the adjoining sitting room, but kept the large doors open in order to better hear the pianoforte.

Jarvis brought out their best brandy and Steve offered some of his finest cigars.

Dugan and Steve were reminiscing about the good old days, as Lord Stone, Miss Hill, the Carruthers and Tony were left to keep each other entertained.

“I’d never thought the day would come when I would long to see Barnes’ old mug! Oh, my lord, how times have changed indeed. Still, I remember all of it like it was yesterday. The war, our band of brothers. You and Barnes were practically inseparable back then. I’m surprised he wasn’t here to greet me, to be honest.” 

“Bucky has some business to attend to in the capital, but he’s promised to be back as soon as he’s done. I understand he may well return before you’ve departed, Timothy.” 

Dugan’s laughter made Steve grin in return. There was a brief lull in their conversation, and Steve couldn’t help hearing Lord Stone’s conversation across the room.

“Her dowry is what one would expect from a family as old and respected as hers. It would be unseemly for it to be anything less so. But, in truth, it was neither her riches nor her impeccable manners that drew me to my dearest Eliza. No. It was her integrity of spirit, her pureness of soul that still holds me captive to this day,” he drawled, the sanctimonious tone holding Steve’s attention. The subject of the man’s impending nuptials had come up so many times during dinner that Steve had to wonder how there was still more for him to say about it. 

“She sounds delightful,” Mr Carruthers replied, sounding very much unimpressed. At his side, Miss Hill coughed, apparently choking on her drink.

“She is,” Stone answered, rather unnecessarily. “ I can’t imagine anyone ever coming close to her…”

Tony was sitting quietly near the corner table where Jarvis had placed the crystal decanter earlier, not really joining anyone’s conversation. He was nursing his drink, looking lost in thought, almost too still. As if he was carved in marble, like a piece of art. He was clearly melancholic, as he had been since their talk two days ago, and Steve was ashamed to say he looked captivating even thus. 

He swallowed the familiar guilt down. No matter how Tony seemed to hurt now, he would soon get over the pain. Steve will make him understand that he had done it for Tony’s own good, his honour. 

It was the necessary first step towards making things right. 

Tony moved his head towards their direction and Steve quickly turned his gaze away.

“You look a lot better, my friend,” Dugan said, surprising Steve with the rare informality. “It suits you to have something to do out here, in the countryside. After your wife… well. It’s good to see you finally doing something new,” he finished, a sad smile on his features.

Sparkling laughter came from the music room and soon the melody changed as Sharon switched from playing a minuet to a dance.

“She’s a good girl, Miss Carter,” Dugan remarked. “You know, she was very excited when she learned she would have the chance to see you. I understand you are very much loved by the late Mrs Rogers’ side of the family.”

Steve thought about that. The truth was he had not seen most of his late wife’s relatives for years, though he still exchanged letters with some of them. He guessed Dugan was not wrong.

“I suppose.”

Dugan went quiet for a while. Steve’s eyes inadvertently drifted back to where Tony was sitting. Tony had turned towards the music, leaving Steve with a view of his back and his hunched shoulders. 

“She’ll make a fine bride for some lucky man, one day,” Dugan spoke up again.

Steve hummed, agreeing with him. 

Sharon’s disposition reminded him very much of his late wife. They had the same love for life, for adventure, that  _ spark  _ that very rarely could be found in women of polite society.

“Yes, Timothy. She most certainly will.”

“If you would... excuse me, my lords,” Tony mumbled and got up, rather unsteadily, from his chair. He struggled to stand straight. Concern flowed through Steve like a river and he got up in order to help him.

Was something the matter? Was Tony unwell?

But then Tony turned, and understanding - along with the strong smell of brandy on Tony’s breath - hit Steve straight in the face. 

Tony was  _ drunk _ .

Tony avoided meeting Steve’s eyes. He looked flushed, embarrassed, as he waited for permission to leave the gathering.

Unable to speak, Steve merely nodded and watched helplessly as Tony half-stumbled out of the room.

“I swear, he used to be such a  _ happy  _ drunkard back in the day…” Stone commented as soon as the door had closed behind Tony.

“Must be difficult for him, to be around all that used to be his,” Mr Walters-Carruthers added politely, nodding his head in consideration. 

“Hmm… I guess he has little to be happy about, nowadays. Shame, really.” On that note, Lord Stone turned and looked straight at Steve, as if challenging him to say otherwise.

Steve bristled. Was Lord Stone implying Steve was the reason for Tony’s inebriated state? 

What was more disconcerting, though, was the fact that something deep in Steve’s gut told him Stone was probably right. 

* * *

Next morning, the real work began. It had been raining heavily since the early hours of the morning, forcing the servants to lit every fireplace in order to chase the damp and chill away. 

As soon as they’d all finished breaking their fast, the real business talk began, leaving Steve with very little time to think about Tony’s worrying behaviour last night.

He seemed to be doing better now, at least. He was back to the efficient, professional demeanour he always displayed as Steve’s secretary. His presence wasn’t distracting anyone anymore, and so, much to Steve’s surprise, everything moved along quite easily.

After agreeing on a final draft of the contract, Dugan insisted he had to see the land for himself before any signatures were put to paper, and Steve readily suggested they ride there as soon as the weather allowed it. Miss Hill went a step further and proposed that the rest of the party should also accompany them, throwing in the idea of a country ride that they could all enjoy while the business was conducted. 

Dinner was served earlier than usual due to the weather and the possible plans for the next day. Tony had quietly excused himself from it, claiming he needed to catch up on his correspondence and would eat something in his rooms, and Steve had reluctantly agreed. So, while the guests were discussing the details of their upcoming excursion, Steve took the chance to ponder the events of the day.

What he had found the most surprising was the lack of objection from Lord Stone to all the suggestions Steve and Tony had made to their original proposal. So far, almost everything had been accepted quite readily.

It was more than a little odd, because Dugan had made it clear in his letters that Stone was by far the most reluctant on the board. 

What could have possibly happened since then to justify such a change?

Steve soldier’s instincts screamed that there was something else going on there. Lord Stone was hiding something. Or, at the very least, he had another purpose in coming here.

In his mind, Steve recalled the way the earl’s eyes constantly gravitated towards Tony. 

Such… indecency. Lord Stone had spent more than half the night bragging about his fiancee's virtues, had  mocked  Tony more than once, and yet he seemed to be lusting over the man like a dog in heat. Neither of them had tried to hide the fact that they already knew each other, but Steve wondered how close an acquaintance they had. 

Could Lord Stone have known Tony would be here? If Steve didn’t know better, he would say the only reason Lord Stone had insisted on visiting the estate was to meet - and toy with - Tony. 

Stone’s past with Tony was making Steve feel very uncomfortable. 

Of course, he was no longer in a position to talk freely with Tony about it without making himself sound like a jealous fool. 

Did Steve even have the right?

What would he even say to him?  _ I think Lord Stone has taken a fancy to you?  _

Steve hadn’t forgotten Stone kissing Tony’s hand in front of everyone.

Lord, he hated the path his thoughts inevitably took when he thought of it. 

What if Tony and Stone were old lovers? Or, even worse, what if they had shared a similar relationship to him and Steve? What did that make  _ Steve,  _ if that was the case?

Surprisingly, Tony didn’t seem to realise that he’d captured the earl’s attention. Or perhaps he didn’t mind. Of course, Lord Stone rarely made his cruel jabs in front of Tony, preferring to do it behind the man’s back like the cowardly noble he was.

Not for the first time, Steve pondered the pitfalls of seeking vengeance. 

Steve had been blinded by pain and by his anger at Tony for many years, and it was that blindness that had led him to this. When Tony had come to beg for a favour, Steve’s mind had rebelled at the idea of helping the man who had almost completely broken him. But his heart still ached, still longed for him. And in the end, Tony had offered something that had proven too attractive for his heart to resist, but cruel enough for his vengeful mind to ultimately accept. 

And by God, had Steve come to regret it.

Well, at least now that he was free of their deal, Tony could give his attention to anyone he chose. And if that meant leaving Steve and the estate behind, that was nothing less than Steve deserved. 

It would hurt, but Steve would learn to live without him, as he had done before. 

But, maybe, Tony wouldn’t want to leave. After all, this was his home. These people were the closest thing to a family he had. 

Steve knew in his heart that these last few weeks Tony had been genuinely happy here. 

Happy with  _ Steve _ , even. 

Steve knew he was far from perfect, but perhaps Tony would maybe one day come to see past Steve’s faults, his weaknesses, and find it in his heart to forgive him. He just had to hope that anything that happened between them could be fixed. Another chance, that was all he could hope for, really. 

A chance for a real friendship once again, maybe even more. A new beginning. No more deals or bargains, no more wallowing in the hurts and anger of the past. 

Just Steve and Tony, together, the way Steve had wished for all those years ago.

* * *

Steve was getting ready for bed when he was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Donning on his silk robe, he called for them to enter, expecting it to be Jarvis bringing him a nightcap before bed.

He was startled when, instead of Jarvis, it was Sharon Carter who greeted him shyly.

“Sharon!” he said, unable to hide his surprise. “Is something the matter?” She didn’t seem unwell to him, but then, Steve had never been able to understand women.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, my lord. If I may...?” she asked, a little unsure.

Steve composed himself quickly and gestured for her to join him. They took a seat near the window. 

“Well? Is there something I could do for you?” he prompted, as soon as she had gotten comfortable in the armchair across from his own.

He hadn’t failed to notice how her posture was hunched, reluctant. Steve didn’t blame her. This was highly irregular at best, and more than a little inappropriate too. She, a young, unmarried woman, and he, a bachelor, alone in his rooms at night. It was fodder for gossip.

“Lord Rogers…” she started, only to immediately pause.

“Please, Sharon, call me Steve,” he urged her with a small smile. They were practically family, after all. That seemed to help her relax a little.

“Steve. I... don’t know how to say this. I’m not even sure if I  _ should  _ say it, but... It’s just that, well…” she paused again, struggling for the right word. Finally, she looked right into his eyes, her face open, full of concern. “Steve. I know I’m not supposed to speak of these things, but I feel like I would do Peggy a great disservice if I didn’t speak up. Steve, all day today, I couldn’t help but notice that you… you seemed  _ sad _ . And I just can’t help but feel like I’m responsible for it somehow! Me being Peggy’s family, coming here without asking for your approval first. It was so thoughtless of me...”

Steve was astonished. “Sharon, what...”

“It is no secret that you’ve been avoiding us since her passing. I understand, really. We’re her family. It must be painful to be around people who constantly remind you of her… It’s just that, well, we’re your family too, Steve. We have all missed you very much.” Her eyes were almost watery.

“Oh, Sharon…” Steve whispered, looking at her as he finally understood. He was rather impressed at her catching his sour mood, though that might be saying more about his poker-face than anything else. 

Of course, Steve doubted he could tell Bucky the reason for his sullen mood, let alone someone like Sharon. 

She was so young, so innocent, but also very perceptive. Just like Peggy. And, also just like Peggy, Sharon still wanted to help, even though, sheltered as she had been all her life, she knew very little of this world.

  
  


Careful not to spook her, Steve took her hand in his and gave it a light squeeze. 

“Sharon, I’m honoured to have you show such concern for my happiness. But let me reassure you that you coming here has brought me nothing but joy. I am very happy to see you.”

“Truly?” she asked, looking at him with wide, guileless eyes.

“Truly. Now, you should really head to bed. We have an early rise tomorrow,” he finished and stood up, leading her to the door. 

And almost running into Tony when he opened it.

Startled, Steve could only watch as Tony, still in his daywear and holding out a candle, opened his mouth to speak only to shut it as soon as he spotted Sharon behind him.

“Miss Carter,” Tony said after a beat. Sharon, visibly flustered, just nodded at him and quickly slipped out of the room, offering a hurried goodnight to them both.

They lingered in silence for a few beats, watching her retreating form fade in the surrounding darkness, until Steve mustered the courage to speak.

“Did you want… I mean, is there something you wanted, Tony?” he asked, cursing his newfound inability to form coherent sentences in front of Tony.

In the candlelight, shadows played tricks on Tony’s face. He seemed aetherial, and uncomfortably like the Tony that still lingered in Steve’s secret dreams every night. 

After a long moment, Tony shook his head. “No. Nothing, my lord,” Tony whispered. Steve had the distinct feeling he had just been lied to.

It was bittersweet too, since it also made him realise how honest Tony had been with him since the beginning of their re-acquaintance. 

Tonight, sadly, Tony just gave him a little nod, wished him a good night, and turned on his heels before Steve could do anything about it.

* * *

“A pity Lord Stone opted to stay behind. Even he would have found the country air refreshing.”

Steve muffled a laugh at the truth of the statement. Indeed, even a dandy like Tiberius Stone would have to appreciate the beauty of the green hills that surrounded Stark Mansion, and there was just something about the smell of the ground after rain that Steve thought could calm even the most restless of spirits. 

“Not wholly unexpected, though,” Dugan continued, spurring his horse closer to Steve’s. “A city-dweller like him is bound to dislike getting his shoes muddy.”

Steve couldn’t help but agree. 

“So, are you done then, Timothy? You have everything you wanted?” he asked as the distant sound of carefree laughter caught up with them. They both turned to where the rest of their party was entertaining themselves.

“Aye, I’m done. Just as you said, too. I gather we’ll be ready to sign by this evening, if your man Stark finishes the rewrite in time. I suppose he stayed behind for that purpose, no? Now, to just round up this lot and we can get started on our journey back.”

Tony had met them all in the lobby that morning, only to announce he would not be joining them. He claimed a headache as his reason. He had looked pale and too tired for someone who had just woken up, so no one raised any objections to it. Tony looked ill. Perhaps that had been what he had come to tell Steve last night. At least, Steve remembered thinking, Tony would have the chance to go back to bed after the rest of them left. 

Their riding party had lost another presence when Lord Stone backed out of the trip as soon as they were outside, just as they were all mounting their horses, the ladies and older gentlemen taking the carriage, of course. The chill was too much for him, Lord Stone had claimed, and he was afraid a ride in such weather would aggravate an old riding injury. 

“Do we really need to leave yet, dear? Sharon and I wanted to ride to the ridge and back!” Mrs Dugan pleaded now, batting her eyelashes at her husband, who only grumbled in return. “Lord Rogers, please, tell him we can stay a little longer!” she implored. At her side, Sharon smiled at the woman’s antics, though said nothing to contradict her.

Mr Carruthers on the other hand, did not agree. “Mrs Dugan, your youth is evident in your endurance. Alas, my rheumatism seems to have no respect for merriment. Both my spouse and I will have to head back.” At his side, Mr Walters-Carruthers nodded in agreement.

Steve, finding himself also wanting to return, suggested the perfect solution.

“Timothy, why don’t you stay with the ladies and head to the mountain ridge. I shall give you my horse, and return to the house with the Carruthers back in the carriage.”

Mrs Dugan squealed in excitement. “Oh, what a wonderful idea! I’ll ride with Timothy and you can ride with Miss Hill, Sharon. It will be such fun!” 

* * *

Their return to the house was swift, and soon Steve found himself in his rooms, changing from his riding attire to a more proper set of clothes.

He wondered how Tony fared, if he was feeling better. Jarvis had left as soon as he had collected Steve’s mud-spattered clothing, so he hadn’t had time to inquire about Tony’s health.

It wouldn’t be inappropriate if he went by Tony’s new rooms to ask about his health, would it? Steve could still show his concern for the man, after all. 

Mind made up, Steve walked the long hallway towards Tony’s rooms. He knocked on the door twice, even called out Tony’s name a few times, before he admitted defeat. Either Tony wasn’t inside or - and Steve really disliked this particular option - he was just unwilling to answer.

Steve headed downstairs, deciding it was safer to ask Jarvis or Miss Potts about Tony’s whereabouts rather than risk entering Tony’s rooms uninvited. 

Aside from Steve’s concern for his well-being, Tony needed to be informed that they had reached an agreement and that the final document needed to get drafted soon. Knowing both the boy Steve grew up with and the man he’d come to understand these last few months, Tony had most likely already prepared such a document, in case everything went in their favour. 

Steve was headed for the kitchen when he heard the muffled sound of voices coming from the billiard room. 

The door was left ajar, and the whispers got louder as he approached, though he couldn’t really understand who the voices belonged to. He was almost in the room when they stopped suddenly. Taking it as a sign that he had most likely been heard by whomever it was, Steve stepped inside.

For a fraction of a moment, the scene in front of him just didn’t make sense.

Lord Stone was in the corner of the room, facing away from the door. One hand rested on the wall, while the other held something,  _ someone _ , against it. It was only when Stone turned to glare at the intruder who had dared disrupt what was clearly an intimate moment that Steve realised who the other person was.

Tony . 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger, who would have thought? Yeah, yeah... I'm evil, I know. 
> 
> Next chapter will be... let's say interesting 😏😏😏
> 
> Please let me know if you liked it! Also, wish me good luck in my exams tomorrow! 🤞🏼


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys... I'm back!  
> I know, it's been a while. I have no excuse, and I apologize for making you all wait this long.  
> Nevermind me, though. Let's get to the chapter. Please mind the tags, as usual. 
> 
> This chapter was betaed by the wonderful EachPeachPearPlum, whom I thank from the bottom of my heart for her infinite patience with me.  
> I'd also like to thank AvengersNewB for being an awesome cheerleader. 
> 
> As always, this is dedicated to the lovely sabrecmc.

There was one place inside the manor that the staff hardly ever visited. The attic. Vast, stuffy and in a perpetual state of semi-darkness, it was a place most of the servants usually avoided. To the best of their knowledge, the only thing stored up there was old furniture and some of the late Lord Stark’s belongings that Tony had been either unwilling or unable to get rid off, left up there to collect dust indefinitely.

The only one who would occasionally visit the attic was Jarvis, though it was only to inspect that nothing of value was missing. 

Thus, it shouldn’t be surprising that someone of Tony’s considerable intelligence managed to hide an entire workshop up there for years.

Ever since Tony was a child, he had loved taking things apart, just to try and figure out how they worked. He would always build them back up again with little difficulty, often improving them as he did so. Anything from his mother’s music box to the old grandfather clock that he and Steve had knocked down while playing one summer; if it had cogs, Tony had probably had his hands in it at some point. 

He had always been an inventor of sorts. As a teen, he would hide away for hours in the attic, tinkering with stolen tools, carving wood and bending metal, all in order to create the elaborate contraptions inspired by his vivid imagination and thorough book research. Mostly so that he could later unleash them as a prank on the unsuspecting servants, or gift to Steve, depending on his mood.

Jarvis had helped him subscribe to scientific journals far too advanced for his age. Tony loved following up with advances in the field of mechanics and science. By the time he went to university, Tony had read all the books on mathematics, physics and mechanics the library had. 

His father, of course, disapproved of it. While Howard Stark had seemed pleased with Tony’s obvious display of intelligence, he had always thought working with one’s hands beneath someone of his son’s station. Tony figured it had something to do with the Starks being mocked more than once by the ton for having so much of their income and wealth come from a business, albeit one as large and important as Stark Company used to be. Heaven forbid what society would say if they learned that the Stark heir dreamed of being an engineer, like the men working in his father’s factories. 

It was funny to think how ironic life could be sometimes.

Howard Stark always put his family name and reputation before anything else, and certainly before his son’s happiness. He had repeatedly crushed Tony’s hopes and dreams in order to protect his idea of the Stark Legacy. 

After getting his heart broken time after time by his father’s disdain, young Tony lost his drive to create. 

And even after many had years passed and the young broken-hearted boy became a man, Tony never really revisited that passion. It was only once he had returned to the manor in shame, penniless and desperate, once he had managed to get rid of the accusations against his name and then endured that awful but grounding experience with Tiberius Stone that it had finally happened. 

Surprisingly, desperation rekindled his old, almost buried interest in inventing. After all, what did he have to lose now?. There was no one to disapprove of him working with his hands, no company he should be focusing on, not even a spouse that was seeking his attention. Instead, Tony felt perhaps his only chance of ever making something of himself would be as an inventor. 

He quickly managed to set up a modest workspace in the deepest corner of the attic, far away from prying eyes, and had started working with his hands once again. 

Tony always thought clearer when he was lost deep in his work.

Slowly, the half-empty space filled with Tony’s creations, from delicate mechanical birds and frogs to innovative household appliances that Tony believed would help ease the servants’ workloads, if he ever managed to fix the few last issues with them. There was even a prototype steam engine, half the size of those currently in use around the country, which, Tony thought, could revolutionize the field and just maybe make him rich again, once he got it finished.

But then reality had come knocking on Tony’s door once again, in the literal form of his pressing creditors. In his desperation, Tony had turned to the very last person he thought he would have to face again. 

And the rest was history.

These past few months, between working as Steve’s secretary during the day and spending his nights in Steve’s arms, Tony had hardly stepped foot in his little workshop, without even really realising it.

With Steve in charge of the estate and back in Tony’s life in such a decisive manner, Tony’s world was once again turned upside down. The initial shock of being with Steve, being able to touch him, kiss him, bring him pleasure, was almost too much to handle and had left Tony feeling almost intoxicated. Whether it was regret for the past, the secrets and the hurt, or obsessing about their present relationship and what it could evolve into, Tony’s whole world revolved around Steve Rogers.

And just when he had started to get his hopes up, it all crumbled at his feet.

The first blow had been Steve withdrawing from their arrangement. It hurt, and had left Tony reeling, feeling unsure and wrongfooted about almost all of their interactions up to that point, but in the end, Tony could understand Steve’s logic. And he was very familiar with Steve’s stubbornness. If Steve believed it was dishonourable of him to behave that way, Tony knew there was little he could say to change his mind. 

And then, as if Steve breaking things off wasn’t torturous enough,  _ Tiberius Stone _ of all people had to come to the manor as an esteemed guest.

Tony barely had two days to prepare himself to face Ty again. His first reaction had been panic, sheer unadulterated terror at the thought of being in the same room as that man once more. But logic had prevailed, and he’d managed to calm himself down somewhat.

Tony wasn’t the naive, desperate fool he had been when he first met Tiberius Stone. He wasn’t about to make the same mistakes he had then.

No, Tiberius Stone didn’t scare Tony anymore. 

But Miss Carter? She was a completely different matter.

Years ago, when Tony had first heard of Steve Rogers’ marriage to Margaret Carter, he had spent an entire afternoon alone, locked in his rooms, with only a bottle of hard liquor for company. 

He had known that day would someday come, but that hadn’t helped ease the ache in his chest. So, Tony had resigned himself to merely wishing the best for Steve and his new wife. 

In the story of their life together, Tony had been the villain while Steve could only ever be the hero. He deserved to have his happy ever after ending, and Tony had wished with all his heart that he would find it with Margaret Carter.

But fate, as it seemed, had different plans for the Rogers household.

In the first days of their reunion and subsequent arrangement, Tony often felt the shadow of the late Lady Rogers looming large before him. He had heard Steve’s friends talk about her and the calming effect she had had on Steve more than once. And he had noticed the way Steve’s gaze lost its focus at times, as if he was reliving a fond memory, only to turn sour and melancholy right after, when he obviously remembered that the source of his joy was now gone. 

Jealousy, Tony knew, was a sneaky little monster that could ruin a man’s life if left unchecked for too long.

Tony had no right to feel jealous of the late Margaret Rogers. She had been there for Steve when Tony had not. She had loved and supported Steve through war, when all Tony had done was drive him there. Any comparison between the two of them would be of no use. So he struggled to contain his feelings of inadequacy, telling himself that this was a chance for both Steve and himself to turn a new page. 

And then came the lovely Miss Sharon Carter.

It was the comfort of his workshop that he ran to after finding Miss Carter in Steve’s rooms. There, hidden away in the comfortable familiarity of his silly creations, Tony felt he could at least lick his wounds in peace.

As if seeing Tiberius for the first time after their awful parting wasn’t enough, Tony had then had to endure watching Miss Carter flirt her way into Steve’s good graces. 

It really didn’t take much intellect for one to deduce the purpose of the lady’s visit. It was almost an inevitable outcome, really. A wealthy widower with a title, still in his prime, and a beautiful young woman from a good family, the story practically wrote itself. Judging by the barely concealed remarks about the lady’s graces from Mister Dugan, Tony would have bet good money -- if he had any left, that was -- that her coming to visit Lord Rogers was no accident.

Tony’s head hurt when he compared himself to her, but alas, he couldn’t help himself. What had he to offer Steve but carnal pleasure? He had no fortune to his name and a terrible reputation to boot. Sure, Tony could offer Steve companionship and his undying, everlasting love, but why would Steve believe him. And even if he did, why would he even want Tony’s love anyway? Sharon would love him too, surely. Hell, she looked half in love with Steve already. And she could offer him children too, his own flesh and blood heirs, something he could never have with Tony. He could almost picture their perfect children. They would probably inherit her alabaster skin and Steve’s deep blue eyes.

How could he ever have believed he could have another real chance with Steve? 

That he deserved one? 

* * *

Tony woke to the distant cries of a rooster, warning him that the sun was rising. He had fallen asleep on the attic floor, and could already feel the cold seeping into his bones. The candle he had brought with him had long gone out, but faint light came in through the skylight, making it easier to see in the semi-darkness of the attic.

A strange feeling ran through him, as if he was being watched. He turned, and there it was. A shadow lurking nearby. 

“How long have you known about this place?” Tony asked, his voice hoarse from sleep. He cleared his throat, hoping that Jarvis wouldn’t be able to see his face clearly enough to realize Tony had been crying. 

Of course his butler knew of his workshop’s existence. Sometimes Jarvis seemed to be almost omniscient.

The old butler slowly stepped forward, coming into the light. He looked concerned, and Tony hated that he was the cause of that. 

“Long enough to worry about what would happen if Peter stumbled in here.”

Tony chuckled at that. With Jarvis’ help, he got to his feet and started dusting off his clothes in a desperate attempt to salvage his probably already ruined attire. 

Jarvis, polite to a fault, allowed Tony to finish tidying up by himself. However, when Tony was ready to head back, Jarvis lingered behind as if unwilling to follow. 

“If I may, Sir,” he started cautiously, deep concern written on his face and a careful hand extended as if trying to pacify a wounded animal. 

Tony sighed, realizing that Jarvis most likely had figured out at least part of the reason he was hiding. He was almost family, after all, and although Jarvis was extremely professional, he was also very protective of Tony. Last night’s debacle, coupled with finding him asleep in the attic, was bound to make the older man worry.

“Of course, Jarvis,” Tony said, resigned to lie to the man once more. 

As if understanding that he would get nothing more out of him, Jarvis kept his eyes focused on Tony’s face as he spoke determinedly. “I know that it’s not my place, but I want you to know that I will do anything in my power in order to keep you safe, my Lord. 

“I am no fool. I know there is something at play between you and that foul man, Lord Stone. I remember Lieutenant Rhodes clearly mentioning his name when you first returned to the manor. He had some choice words to say about the man, and after meeting him in person, I cannot help but agree. Tony...” He paused, making sure he had all of Tony’s attention, and then, “You are not alone, my boy, do you hear me?” he said, with a rare passion that almost brought tears to Tony’s eyes once more, though for an entirely different reason. Tony nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Yes. Jarvis was family. 

* * *

When they arrived back in Tony’s rooms, Jarvis sent one of the maids to fetch Tony some freshly brewed coffee while he set the fire. 

“Lord Rogers and his guests will be getting ready to leave soon,” Jarvis remarked. “My lord, I’m afraid that even with the strongest of coffees, you’re in no condition to go with them on horseback. You are barely standing,” he finished, not even trying to hide his disapproval.

Tony couldn’t bring himself to disagree, though his unwillingness to go had little to do with Tony’s ability to ride a horse in his state. No, it was more about the company he would be in.

Truth be told, Tony  _ was _ tired. Not only physically, but emotionally as well. 

What was the point of pretending, anyway? 

Seeing Ty again, after almost a year, would have been a trying experience all on its own, but, alas, it was just one of the things Tony had had to suffer through. 

Obviously, Tony had a lot of sins he was yet to answer for. It was the only way to explain all the suffering fate had brought upon him.

Tony’s last sliver of hope for a future with Steve had vanished last night, when he caught Miss Carter inside Steve’s rooms, just as Tony had finally mustered the courage to warn Steve of Tiberius and tell him everything that had transpired between them. 

To say that Tony felt a right fool was an understatement. 

“You’re right. I’ll get dressed, see them off. I’ll think of an excuse not to join them. No one will care either way.”

* * *

When Tony made his way to the grand entrance hall, he was greeted by the sight of a party almost ready to depart on their little excursion. They were all there, with the not so surprising exception of Lord Stone, a man who, Tony knew, was notorious for making a late entrance. The party was dressed suitably for the chilly weather, the gentlemen donning thick capes over their riding gear, while the ladies -- Mrs Dugan and Miss Carter, to be more specific -- were wearing their travelling cloaks, each finishing their ensemble with a matching set of thick gloves and a shawl. Miss Hill was dressed in a riding gear more suited to a gentleman than a lady, but somehow that look on her seemed rather natural. 

Tony’s presence seemed to almost go unnoticed, at first. He honestly preferred it that way. It gave him the chance to steal a few moments of just admiring the regal figure Steve cut in his riding gear. So near, yet so far away.

God, but Tony  _ missed  _ him dearly.

Miss Carter clung to Steve’s arm, engaging him in what seemed to be an exciting conversation.

Of course she was.

It seemed like only yesterday that Tony was the one in Steve’s arms. How quickly he had been replaced. 

“Good morning, Mister Stark. Are you not joining us?” Mister Carruthers interrupted Tony’s train of thought with a polite greeting. 

Steve’s head turned Tony’s way and for a moment their eyes met. 

Tony turned his head quickly, ashamed to be caught staring. “I’m afraid not, sir. I am feeling a little unwell,” he replied, taking effort not to let his gaze wander back towards Steve. ”Headache.”

“A wise decision then,” the older man replied, and was joined by the rest in wishing Tony a swift recovery. Tony smiled politely at them all, though he didn’t meet anyone’s eyes lest he catch Steve’s again. He made his way back upstairs, just in time to miss Lord Stone’s arrival. 

* * *

Tony spent most of his morning in the library, working on the documents of the agreement. 

He had gone through the deal twice already, and was finishing rewriting it with the added final details, sorting through annotations and a couple of proposed addendums that had been agreed upon yesterday evening.

He sighed, momentarily resting his pen on the desk and perused the document once again. It hadn’t escaped Tony’s notice that Tiberius Stone had taken very little interest in the agreement itself. That fact worried Tony more than it appeased him. 

Perhaps Ty was planning something, and they were playing right into his hand. It wouldn’t be the first time he had made a fool out of Tony. Last time he had made a deal with Lord Stone, he had ended up losing much more than money and credit. 

Tony would never forget the day he met him. The heir to the Earldom of Valomney. Lord Stone.  _ Ty.  _

Such a charming, handsome man. When he wanted to be. 

  
  


_ As a member of the ton, Tony had almost always been an outrageous flirt. He had a scandalous reputation of sleeping around like a Frenchman, caring little whom he brought to his bed, as long as all parties had fun.  _

_ After losing his livelihood and titles and finding himself penniless and with barely any credit to his name, Tony knew he had to keep up certain appearances if he was to have any chance of finding a way to fix things. _

_ Lady Winifred’s dinner party was a grand gathering, with almost half the important gentlefolk of the capital in attendance. Of course, Tony couldn’t possibly miss it.  _

_ People might talk behind his back -- hell, they even talked about him right in front of his face at times -- but Tony knew very well it would be even worse if he failed to attend these kinds of occasions at all. _

_ Tony had been exonerated of all charges, after all, and before he was even taken to trial. Certainly, he had almost nothing left to his name now, but at least he wasn’t hanged for treason, a crime that he had most definitely not been guilty of. Now, he had to work his way back up the ladder again, and in order to do so, he had to rebuild some connections with the country’s most rich and powerful. _

_ “Mister Stark!” Tony turned to the man calling his name, fixing a pleasant smile on his face as soon as he saw who was addressing him.  _

_ “Lord Osborn.” He nodded his head in acknowledgement at the smaller gentleman, an old associate of his father. He was amongst those few of Tony’s peers who still spoke to him with joviality, even if his eyes shone a little brighter every time he stressed Tony’s new form of address. A moment later, he noticed the reason Lord Osborn had approached him, when another gentleman joined them, waiting to be introduced. He was a tall, imposing man, dressed in impeccable fashion, with blond hair, blue eyes and an air of mischievous confidence that Tony immediately found fascinating.  _

_ Lord Osborn was quick to make the introductions.  _

_ “If you will allow me, my dear fellow. This is Lord Tiberius Stone, heir of Valomney. Lord Stone, this is the one and only Mister Tony Stark.”  _

__

_ Lord Stone’s eyes sparked as he took Tony’s hand in his own. He smiled crookedly and, instead of shaking it, brought it to his lips.  _

_ “An absolute pleasure to meet you, dear sir,” he purred. _

_ Tony’s heart fluttered. Externally, he merely allowed one eyebrow to rise in a faint show of entertainment at the man’s antics, playing coy.  _

_ Tony Stark had a reputation to uphold, after all. _

_ “The honour is all mine, my lord,” he replied, the flirty tone of his voice obvious to anyone close enough to hear him. _

_ Lord Stone smiled, his eyes sparkling even brighter with mirth at Tony’s response. _

_ Oh, that man was going to be  _ trouble _ , Tony just knew it. _

* * *

The knock on the door startled Tony out of his troubled musings.

“Come in,” he called and watched with interest as one of the maids, Laura, entered with a letter on a silver tray. 

“It just arrived, my lor- sir. Jarvis said to bring it right to you.”

Curious, Tony thanked her and took the letter, already suspecting who it might be from. He waited for the door to close before he eagerly broke the seal. 

_ Tony, _

_ I hope this finds you in good health. I’m afraid this letter will be even briefer than my previous ones. Perhaps I’m getting paranoid, but I have a feeling our correspondence may be intercepted.  _

_ I have found one of the men I mentioned to you in my previous letters. He had a lot to say about our common acquaintance, and I am pleased to say I will be bringing you back a gift. I expect to write to you from England again very soon. I hope Lord Rogers won’t mind me paying you a visit.  _

_ Stay safe, _

_ Lieutenant Rhodes, HMS Lady Marvel _

__

Finally, some good news! Rhodey was coming home. Not only that, but it seemed like his search for Stane was at last paying off. Tony was curious to learn whom exactly Rhodey had managed to track down. He knew he had caught the trail of Obadiah Stane’s fleeing party, so it was probably one of them. Most likely either Stane’s secretary or his nephew, Ezekiel. Either one of them could possibly offer some clues as to where Stane was now, or even more importantly, some proof that they had framed Tony to take the fall for all of his years of troubles with the crown and the double-dealing with the enemy using the Stark name. 

Feeling more hopeful than he had in a long time, Tony quickly folded the letter and placed it in his jacket pocket. He all but ran downstairs, excited, looking for Jarvis or Miss Potts to share the good news with them. 

The only downside to Rhodey’s return was that there was a chance, though very slim, that he might arrive at the manor while Tiberius was still here as a guest. 

Tony shivered, remembering that fateful day in the capital, a little more than a year ago.

  
  


_ Tony finished putting on a shirt, trying to calm his nerves. He had spent hours agonizing over whether he should speak to Ty about the woman who had called on him earlier that day and the claims she had made.  _

_ It couldn’t possibly be true, could it?  _

_ Ty had told Tony more than once that he loved him. Not even an hour ago, he had said Tony was the love of his life as they held one another after making passionate love. _

_ It didn’t matter to Ty that Tony had never said it back. He didn’t care that Tony couldn’t give him his heart completely, and Tony was immensely grateful for it. He was very lucky to have found Ty.  _

_ No, that woman was lying. She had to be. She must have been sent here by someone who wished to see Tony completely ruined. There was no other explanation. _

_ Ty had already agreed to help Tony with his new business idea, the one Tony had gone all in on and couldn’t succeed at without Ty’s contacts finding a buyer for him.  _

_ Partners in both business and life. That’s what they’d be. If that didn’t imply marriage was in their future, Tony didn’t know what did. Ty had even rented these rooms for Tony to live comfortably in, after losing ownership of the town house. _

_ So it couldn’t possibly be true, what that wretched woman claimed. _

_ Nevermind that it was simply unthinkable that Tony could have been made such a fool! He may be a laughing stock in the eyes of his former peers, but he still had eyes and ears. He would have heard something about Tiberius Stone courting another to marry, surely. _

_ But still, something deep inside him nagged at him that he had to make sure. _

_ Though he hated the thought of spoiling their romantic evening, an occasion that had become something of a rarity between them lately, he knew he wouldn’t rest if he hadn’t cleared things up with Ty. _

_ Tony took his shot when Ty finally stirred again beside him, his hands grasping at Tony, clearly eager for a second round. _

_ “A woman came by today,” he started, his tone determined enough that Ty paused. _

_ He shot Tony an inquisitive look and propped himself up on his elbow. “Hmm? How interesting, my love,” he finally said, sounding fairly uninterested. _

_ “Her name was Lady Foster. She called here to speak to me on behalf of her niece, a miss Eliza Foster..?” _

_ Dread slowly seeped through Tony as he saw the change in Ty’s face, his leisurely smile dropping the moment the name Foster was mentioned. His heart sank when the only thing he could read in Ty’s posture was annoyance at being caught. _

_ No. It must be something else.  _

_ It couldn’t be true. _

_ “She claimed,” he continued in a monotone, “that her niece was soon to be entering a formal engagement with you, and that the reason she had come here was to warn me that if I insist on continuing my ‘involvement’ with you, I will dearly regret it”. _

_ Ty refusing to meet his eyes told Tony everything he needed to know. _

_ “My God, Ty, is it true?” he asked in a shocked whisper.  _

_ That at least made Ty look at him. _

_ “Is. It. True.” Tony said again, anger flaring inside him.  _

_ What a fool he had been.  _

_ “Yes,” Ty replied after a while, emotionlessly. _

_ A thousand thoughts screamed at Tony’s mind all at once. ‘Liar...' ‘cheat...' ‘but he promised!’ and, most importantly, ‘how could he do this to me?’ _

_ “But… You said… How could you…?” Tony sat up, struggling to speak, but failing to make sense of his own thoughts. _

_ Had he really been so blind? Had this really meant nothing to Ty?  _

_ “Tony, Tony, please calm yourself...” Ty said, stroking the palm of Tony’s hand in a soothing motion. _

_ Tony snatched his hand away. “Calm myself? How dare you. I trusted you! You told me you loved me, Ty, how could you?” _

_ “I do love you…” Ty tried to calm him once more, the silky tone of his voice sounding more like a trap than ever before.  _

_ “How can you still claim to love me when you just admitted you are getting engaged to another! You promised me a life together, Tiberius. You said we would be ‘partners in all aspects of life’. Your words, not mine!” _

_ “I never promised you marriage, Stark. What I said was that I would take care of you, and I did. You have an entire apartment all to yourself, with all your expenses paid. Much more than a common mistress would get...” Ty’s face had transformed into an ugly, scoffing mask Tony could hardly recognize.  _

_ “So that’s all I am? Your live-in whore? What about the buyer for my shipment? Was that a lie too?” It was as if he had taken a dive in cold water, and woke up from a strange, alluring dream, only to find his real life was a nightmare. There wasn’t a buyer for Tony’s precious shipment. Tony had just thrown the last of his money away, once again foolish enough to trust the wrong person. “Oh… Oh, you evil, lying son of a...”  _

_ “Watch your filthy mouth!” Ty shouted, furious, and Tony, for the first time since the conversation began, felt a pang of fear tearing through his righteous anger. “Like anyone with a sound mind would ever buy anything from you, you disgraced creature!” _

_ “I’m going to tell everyone what you truly are, Tiberius Stone. A liar, a cheat...” Tony shot back at him, struggling to hold back his tears. _

_ “You think anyone would ever believe you? You’re a disgrace, Stark,” he said, and then grabbed at Tony’s waist, his fingers pressing hot in his bare skin. “ _ This _ is the only thing you’re good for, Anthony. Being my live-in whore.” _

_ In a flash, Tony’s reflexes kicked in, and he started wriggling, struggling to escape the now very much unwanted grasp. _

_ “Hold still, damn you!” Ty barked, as Tony did the exact opposite. Gathering all his strength, Tony kicked his legs wildly, hitting both the bed and the man he was trying to escape from. His struggle paid off, as Ty’s grasp relaxed momentarily and Tony took the opportunity to stagger away from the bed and then ran towards the living room. _

_ Behind him, he could hear Ty swearing as he followed, and Tony, panicked and very much afraid at this point, made a dive towards the front door, not caring what the neighbors would think of his half dressed, disheveled form, only to be met by his completely unexpected but entirely welcome best friend standing on his doorstep. _

_ “Tony? What is going on?” Rhodey asked, bewildered by the strange sight of him, but his expression darkened as soon as he took in the scene, the clear, unadulterated fear written on Tony’s face and the relief in his eyes at seeing him. Behind Tony, Tiberius stood stunned, anger emanating from every pore of his being.  _

_ “Alright,” Rhodey said, stepping inside and deliberately putting himself between Tony and Ty.  _

_ “Go get your stuff, Tony,” his best friend said through his teeth, eyes fixed on Ty and the possible danger he might present to Tony. “We are leaving.” _

* * *

  
  


First Tony went to the kitchen, but was told by a very busy cook that Jarvis had taken the opportunity of the guests being away from the manor for a few hours to clean the common rooms they used the most. 

He heard noise coming from inside the billiard room, so Tony headed there first. Despite it being mid-day, the billiard room was particularly dark, since it lacked any windows. It depended on candlelight, coming from a modest chandelier that hung almost too low in the middle of the room, just above the billiard table. 

“Jarvis, you will never guess who…” he started to say, rushing to the man standing at the other side of the room, only to halt when he realised that the man wasn’t his butler. 

The familiar gleam in Ty’s eyes sent a cold shiver down Tony’s spine and he found himself almost helpless, unable to move or speak as the other man came nearer and nearer. 

“Tony…” Ty whispered his name, almost reverently, his focus unwavering. It was a stark difference from the demeaning manner in which he had addressed Tony during his visit so far. Ty took another step forward, and Tony suddenly felt the cold wall against his back.

This close, the smell of Ty’s expensive cologne made Tony dizzy with familiarity. For a moment, he forgot the sense of danger and dread that had all but swallowed him. Instead, he felt as if he was in a trance, not really there, but somewhere nearby, like he was a spectator in a play, one he had already seen, a long time ago.

Ty lifted his hand, gently brushing a lock of Tony’s hair back from his face.

The barely-there touch was enough to break this strange spell Tony had found himself under. 

“I-I thought you were Jarvis,” he said, holding his chin up, trying to sound unaffected.

A dry, “Hmm… I gathered as much,” was the only reply that he got. As was annoyingly characteristic of him, Ty didn’t move a muscle from his current position. 

Well, if Ty wanted another showdown, Tony would give him one. Even if Rhodey wasn’t here to help him this time around.

“Excuse me,  _ my lord _ ,” Tony said forcefully, and swiftly tried to maneuver himself out of there, only to be stopped by a firm hand on his waist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ty said, his tone ice cold, fingers squeezing Tony’s side.

Tony’s anger surpassed his trepidation at the sheer gall of the gesture, and then, just as Tony was about to start shouting at Ty to unhand him, the man backed off, turning to look at the door.

At Steve, who was staring at them, visibly stunned.

Them.

Tony and Ty  _ together _ .

Tony ran. He flew across the room, right past Steve. He took the steps two at a time, almost falling when he took the turn to the corridor too fast, and finally, he reached the safety of his rooms. 

As he ran, he paid no mind to whoever was calling his name, though he was cognizant enough to realize that someone was following him.

He stumbled into the room, chest heaving with exertion, eyes wide, panicked, and his mind reeling with a hundred different thoughts. He was overwhelmed, filled with too many emotions, a burden that he could no longer contain. 

Anger, hurt and shame swelled within him. He could still feel Ty’s touch burning the side of his lower rib cage, and the memory alone made him nauseous with disgust. 

The nerve of that man.

Bitterly, Tony scoffed at his own foolishness. Tony had known Tiberius Stone was nothing if not entitled, spoiled and morally bankrupt. He should have slapped him there and then, propriety and station be damned.

Though, Tony knew he had no right to preach about morals. He, who used to be the most infamous spoiled dandy of them all. Though Tony would have never forced himself on anyone; such ungentlemanly behaviour was inconceivable to him.

But still, it had been Tony who had spent years and years sharing his body with both male and female lovers. Back then, he had had no care or second thought as he lost himself in pleasure and sin.

He was such a fool.

_ “Aah...” Tony moaned, his eyes rolling back as he finally found his release after what seemed like hours and hours of torturous pleasure in the hands of an experienced lover. His breath was hard and his heart beat wildly in his chest. He was aware of the sweat and the.. other fluids that sullied his skin, but was honestly too worn out to care. _

__

_ Feeling too hot, he pushed Ty’s equally sweaty body off him, only to receive an impish smile and a nip on the lips in return. _

_ “Was it good for you, my love?” Ty asked, somehow managing to sound calm and collected. Tony found it decidedly unfair of him. _

_ “Why, my lord, have you any doubt in your skills as a lover?” Tony humoured him. Tony had slept with enough nobles to know that most of them had an overestimated idea of their prowess in bed, but he was pleasantly surprised to find that Lord Stone was an exception to that rule.  _

_ Tony hadn’t had this much fun in a long time.  _

_ Rich, interested in Tony and good in bed? Perhaps his streak of bad luck was finally at an end. _

_ Ty raised an eyebrow at him. “No, no doubts. I merely wished to know that I satisfied your infamous, insatiable lust…compared to your dozens of old conquests, my love.” He smirked, like the cat that got the canary.  _

_ Touche, Tony thought.  _

_ “I wasn’t thinking of my other lovers, Ty. The past is not important. You must know that,” Tony replied, feeling all of a sudden a little self-conscious.  _

_ The past wasn’t important. Not the recent one, anyways.  _

_ Tony struggled to suppress the thoughts stirring in the back of his mind, thoughts of a young, reedy boy with striking blue eyes and a gentle, shy smile. Ty didn’t ever need to know about Steve. _

_ Ty stared at him speculatively. “I guess I do,” he whispered finally, and brushed a stray lock of hair off of Tony’s face with a delicate gesture. “You look lovely tonight, my Anthony. A jewel fit to decorate the crown of a king…” he purred, and Tony felt a blush painting his face. It was always nice hearing an unexpected compliment, Tony thought. _

_ “Wh..like this? All sticky and naked?” He laughed at Ty’s ridiculousness. It was cut short by lips claiming his own in a hungry kiss, and soon Ty’s roaming fingers had found their way down Tony’s back. _

_ “You are a true temptation,” he breathed in Tony’s ear, fingers pressing back inside Tony’s willing body. “You’re devil sent, aren’t you?” _

__

It was through his own, foolish choices that Tony had ended up all but serving as a prostitute to Steve, the man he had been in love with for the better part of his life. Perhaps if Tony hadn’t lacked the courage to stand up to his father when it had mattered the most, things would have been different, but he had shown nothing but cowardice ever since he was a young boy. And once again, his worst self, his debilitating weakness, had been revealed right in front of Steve.

Why did it have to be Steve? 

Tony knew how it must have looked, knew what conclusions one might draw upon seeing someone of Tiberius’ status in that position with someone like Tony. 

How much further could he fall in the eyes of the man he loved? From a mistress to a common whore, that’s what it must have seemed to him. Tony Stark, the fallen noble who whored himself to the highest bidder. 

If Steve ever had doubted Tony’s real worth, well… he would be sure Tony was worthless after witnessing this.

All of a sudden, the doors slammed open, sheer force making the hinges creak as the doors crashed into the wall. Tony was startled and quickly turned to meet the intruder. 

Steve was out of breath, looking more distraught than Tony had seen him in a long while. When he finally caught sight of Tony, his shoulders relaxed, if only by a fraction, and for a moment they just stared at each other. 

Tony had really, truly missed the beloved sight of him. Tall and still built like the soldier he had proudly been, he cut an imposing, handsome figure, one that artists could never tire of painting and sculptors would happily fill endless halls with its likeness.

So near, yet so unapproachable; someone that Tony could never, ever claim as his own, even though he would swear he himself belonged entirely and eternally to Steve Rogers. 

Steve slowly approached. “Tony…” he started, looking pale and worried, and Tony hated that he was probably the reason for that. “Tony… what happened down there?” he asked cautiously.

Tony turned away, unwilling to look him in the eye any longer. “I don’t understand what…”

“No, don’t be like that, Tony. Please.” Steve said, soothing him as one would a wounded animal. Would he do the humane thing then, and put Tony out of his misery? “Please…” he continued, daring to come even closer, arm stretched towards Tony but not daring to touch him. “Was he… was he being... indecent?” he finally whispered.

Tony turned at him, incredulous and furious at the same time. Rage, the one that had built within him for years and years as he was cast lower and lower time and again, suddenly roared within him.

He was tired of all of it, furious with Ty, with Steve, with himself. His eyes burned as he raised his head high and answered, “Really? Why are you asking me that,  _ my lord _ ?” His eyes burned as he dared Steve to answer. 

_ Show me you care _ , he wished, with all his might. 

Steve was momentarily stunned. Then, after a moment of looking at Tony, he visibly deflated. “I apologize, Tony. I just… I thought… I don’t know what I thought…” he said, looking sad, and worn.

_ Stay,  _ Tony’s mind pleaded.  _ Please... please stay with me. _

Instead, Steve took a step back and gave a small, too formal bow.

“Forgive me,” he muttered, failing to meet Tony’s eyes. 

Then Tony watched, helpless, as Steve turned his back on him and left. 

* * *

Either by chance or by design, no one disturbed Tony for the rest of the afternoon. A little after dinner time, a maid knocked politely on his door to inform him that a bath had been drawn for him. 

Exhausted from crying, Tony seized the opportunity to unwind and to rid himself of the stain of Ty’s unwanted touch on his body. Afterwards, he returned to his room feeling a lot calmer and a little bit drowsy. 

He decided to retire early, when another faint knock on his door revealed Pepper this time, carrying a tray of tea and sandwiches. At the sight of her, Tony’s neglected stomach rumbled in anticipation.

“You missed dinner,” she said simply as she placed the tray on the table and prepared a cup for him.

He wolfed down a sandwich and was on his second cup of tea when he realised Miss Potts was still there, sitting in a corner, silently watching him. “I can return the tray myself, Pepper, you can go rest now,” he offered, although he suspected it wouldn’t work. 

She shook her head. “I’m not tired, Tony. And that’s not why I’m here.”

Tony sighed. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what the talk amongst the servants must be right now, after everything that had transpired between himself and Steve. 

Or himself and Lord Stone.

“I’m fine, Pepper. You shouldn’t worry yourself about me,” he tried to reassure her. He sounded false, even to his own ears.

“If you won’t worry about yourself Tony, then at least allow someone else to do so,” she replied and leaned her head to the side, speculative.

Worried.

She knew, Tony realized. Of course she did. Pepper was no fool, and after that ridiculous display earlier, Tony doubted if there was anyone left that hadn’t figured out his secret. 

It was as if a dam broke within him. Tears filled Tony’s eyes, and he struggled, ultimately unable to keep his composure. In an instance, Pepper was at his side, her comforting arms enveloping him in a tight embrace. 

She soothed him as he wept silently, shoulders shaking but managing to swallow all sounds down. He had made enough of a spectacle of himself as it was. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, face pressed against Pepper’s shoulder. “I’ve ruined your dress…” he said, pulling back enough to face his friend.

“Nonsense.”

“I’m tired of paying for my sins, Peper.”

“Oh, Tony…” she sighed.

Head hung down, he pressed himself to continue, needing to finally get this burden off his chest. He knew he could trust Pepper with anything, just as well as he was sure that she would never judge him for the things he had done in desperation.

“I  _ know  _ I deserve it. I let Stane ruin the company and my family name. I fooled around for years, scoffing at settling down. Time and again, I fell for people’s deceit. I never… I never stood up to my father.” 

It was painful to admit it. But, oddly enough, it was freeing as well.

“I broke Steve’s heart,” he finished, almost a whisper. 

It was the very first time he had ever said those words out loud. He felt strange, empty. 

After a moment, Pepper took his hand in her own and squeezed it tightly. Her expression wasn’t at all surprised, just understanding and kind. Finally, she spoke. “You are a good man, Tony Stark. If you have made mistakes, well… you have more than paid for them. You don’t deserve to be in pain, Tony. No one does.”

He gave her a faint smile at that, clumsily wiping his tears with the back of his hand.

She returned it, and stood up to collect the tray, having apparently determined that her job there was done. 

“Will that be all, Mister Stark?” she asked, as she was about to let him retire for the night.

Thanking the universe once more for his chosen family, Tony nodded his head slightly and replied, “That will be all, Miss Potts.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... please let me know what you think?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! And this time, it didn't take me six whole months to finish one damned chapter! YAY!!!🥳🥳🥳  
> Anyway, a thousand thanks to my wonderful beta reader EachPeachPearPlum, and to my equally wonderful beta/cheerleader AvengersNewB. I really love you guys ❤️❤️❤️  
> On to the story!

During Steve’s days on the war front, there were times, more than he cared to admit, that almost drove him to his limit.

Some had to do with the fact that, mentally, in his first months of service, he’d been in a fairly dark place. He had dared to imagine a life with Tony Stark, and to have that taken from him - and in such cruel a manner, too - it had been a hard blow to take.

Some of it, though, was just that war hit Steve hard. It had been a difficult lesson for someone of Steve’s persistent character to learn that there were things he couldn’t control, people he couldn’t save and battles he couldn’t win, no matter how valiantly he fought. 

Steve hated the feeling of impotence, of utter  _ helplessness _ , that came with losing someone in battle. Each time a soldier in Steve’s regiment fell to enemy fire, it was like losing Tony and his imagined life all over again. 

Of course, with time, he learned to adjust. Having Bucky around had helped considerably. He managed to become a constant presence in Steve’s life in a very short time, and then he met Peggy. In his late wife, Steve had finally found someone who could keep him grounded and sane. 

After all these years, after fighting - and winning - the damned war, after getting married and then being  _ widowed _ , Steve had thought fate was done with him and that he would never have to experience that kind of pain ever again. 

And then Tony Stark had walked back into his life.

Now, Steve had truly grieved his wife’s passing. She had been his faithful companion for years, and his closest confidant for even longer. But to this day, he still felt a deep shame for the fact that her death hadn’t left him in the same helpless agony that losing Tony had. Steve would never admit it out loud, but when Tony had first offered to become his lover, a terrible, dark part of himself had been glad he was a widower and thus avoided committing adultery when he - perhaps inevitably - accepted.

So, there it was again, back in his chest, that clenching, burning sensation of pure rage and desperation, the urge to strike back, to hurt those who hurt him. It flared into life when Steve saw Lord Stone’s hands on Tony’s delicate frame, even though it was for just a few moments, before his presence forced the man to take a step back. He didn’t look at all happy with the interruption.

Steve had moments to think of how he should react, before Tony, free of Lord Stone’s grip, decided to excuse himself in a most hurried manner and headed - all but ran - upstairs. 

Steve found himself torn. On the one hand, he desperately wanted to follow Tony, make sure he was alright, ask him what had occurred just moments past, and on the other, he realised he had to talk to, if not outright confront, Lord Stone about it. 

He could scarcely make sense of what he had seen. Instinctively, his heart told him that, whatever it was, it wasn’t good. But Steve’s heart had betrayed him in the past, especially where Tony Stark was concerned, so he had learned not to trust it that easily.

It had been an almost intimate scene. As if he’d caught two lovers just on the brink of a passionate kiss. In that moment, it dawned on Steve that not only was his fear that Tony and Lord Stone were old lovers most likely true, it was entirely possible they had once more rekindled their romance. 

But then again, Tony had looked alarmed, scared even. He looked far from enjoying himself. 

In the end, Steve’s worry for Tony won and he swiftly took off behind him.

He finally caught up with Tony inside Tony’s new room. He found him pacing, looking ruffled and distressed, but otherwise unharmed. A pang of guilt surged through him as he quickly inspected his surroundings, Tony’s newest lodgings. Unsurprisingly, this room lacked both size and decoration compared to his previous one, but, more importantly, it barely looked lived in. It seemed impersonal, pristine and tidy, just like any other guest room in the manor. 

It hit home, finally, to Steve, how much it must have hurt Tony to be once again forced to give up a space he’d called his own. More than any other time he’d seen him, Tony seemed fragile, like glass ready to shatter under too much pressure.

Steve made a conscious effort to keep his voice calm when he finally addressed Tony, afraid that the man would either close off entirely - or, even worse, flee again - if he felt pressed. 

“Tony… what happened down there?” he asked, cautiously. 

“I don’t understand what…” Tony started, his tone flippant. He seemed determined to refuse to acknowledge that anything had been amiss. It rattled Steve to his core, how Tony replied while avoiding his eyes, and how he’d automatically exuded an air of aloofness that would have fooled him once, but now he could clearly recognize it as a mask. 

“No, don’t be like that, Tony. Please...” Steve interrupted him, insisting, though still quiet and reluctant, to learn the truth. He tried to voice his gravest concern, the one that he had dared not to think about before: that Lord Stone had - heaven forbid - meant to  _ force  _ himself on Tony.

“Please. Was he… was he being... indecent?” 

Only then did he finally get a real reaction out of Tony. And what a reaction it was. Tony looked both indignant and inescapably beautiful in his outrage, confronting Steve on his own hypocrisy. 

“ _ Really _ ?” he said, tone hurt and angry all at once. “Why are  _ you  _ asking me that,  _ my lord _ ?” he spat at Steve, lashing out like a wounded animal. 

Doubt and guilt gnawed at Steve’s insides.

Could it be possible that Steve had misinterpreted what he saw? He knew very well that his judgement was compromised where Tony was concerned, but could he really have been this wrong? Perhaps what Steve had initially read in Tony’s eyes as fear was instead shame at having been caught in such a position by a man that had, until very recently, been his lover. 

Watching the way Tony’s frame all but swayed, struggling to stay upright, Steve decided it couldn’t be so. He might have acted a fool more than once in regards to his behaviour towards Tony Stark, but _this_? This he was sure he hadn’t misread. Steve recognized true fear when he saw it. One couldn’t live the life of a soldier and not be intimately acquainted with it. And Tony _\- his_ Tony - in the arms of Tiberius Stone, had looked afraid. Steve was certain of that _._

But still Tony was denying anything wrong had happened and Steve knew that it could only mean one thing. That he didn’t trust Steve, at least not enough to confide in him and seek his help. 

Steve couldn’t blame him. After all, how much different had his own behaviour towards Tony been? Steve could never forget the unforgivable way he had behaved towards Tony those first weeks he’d returned to the manor. He had tried hard to seem as cold as he could, to make it clear to Tony that their relationship was nothing more than a transaction, a business deal. 

How he had come to regret that. 

Tony probably thought that Steve wouldn’t believe him, even if he dared to bring forth accusations against Lord Stone. Between Tony’s bad reputation, his company’s infamy, and his fallen status as a peer, the deck was definitely stacked in Lord Stone’s favor when it came to public opinion.

Steve needed to take a step back and think everything through. He needed to strategize. No matter how hard he wished to, he knew he couldn’t afford to accuse an earl of assaulting a member of his staff - and Tony Stark of all people - without any evidence or witnesses. 

“I apologize, Tony. I just… I thought… I don’t know what I thought…” he said. He forced his gaze away from Tony’s trembling form. Uncertainty held him back, so Steve decided to retreat and leave Tony be, at least for now. “Forgive me,” he said and left.

* * *

When Steve entered the billiard room, he half-expected to find Lord Stone where he’d left him, but instead, the room was empty of any presence whatsoever. 

He turned back and almost ran straight into Jarvis. The butler masterfully avoided the collision with a quick side-step. “My lord,” he greeted Steve, seemingly unfazed. 

Seeing the tray of tea and biscuits in Jarvis’ hands made Steve realise that, with all that had happened, he had completely forgotten about the rest of his guests and if they had had a safe return.

“It’s for Lord Stone, my lord. He asked for tea to be served in his rooms,” Jarvis explained. A hint of irritation coloured his normally impassive voice. It would seem that even the cool and collected Jarvis wasn’t overly fond of this particular guest and Steve couldn’t agree more.

“Right, right… have the others returned yet, Jarvis?” he inquired, more a formality than a real concern.

“They have, my lord, and I’ve arranged warm baths for all of them. Peter is tending to the horses, all is well,” came the swift reply from the elderly butler and Steve nodded, gesturing at Jarvis to return to his task.

After all, Steve had to carry out a task of his own. 

He went back to his study, listened carefully to the faint sounds of Jarvis serving Stone his tea that came from the room beside his own, and waited.

He knew that, since Tony was unwilling to share more of what happened, Steve had to find a way to make Tiberius Stone talk about it, though he knew it wouldn’t be easy. Even if Stone hadn’t tried to force his advances on Tony - a distasteful, but infinitely preferable alternative to Tony being with Stone unwillingly - Tiberius Stone was still a man engaged to be married, and Steve was well within his rights to remind him of that. 

Perhaps the fear of a scandal and of losing a beneficial match with a powerful family would be enough to convince Stone to keep his hands away from Tony.

Finally, Steve heard the familiar thump of a door closing. 

He got up and unlocked the door that linked his office and Stone’s room, acutely aware of the difference of circumstances between the last time he had opened that door, and this one. He had to push aside the memory of Tony’s lovely naked form, writhing and begging for him. This wasn’t the time for it. 

If Lord Stone was at all surprised to see Steve in his rooms, he certainly didn’t show it. 

Stone sat in a chair near the lit fireplace, nursing his cup of tea with a leisurely air of contentment. He did not acknowledge Steve’s presence in any way, so Steve, not one to get flustered with etiquette, simply took a chair across from him, and waited.

“What a marvellously convenient way to enter, Lord Rogers,” the man noted finally, while his gaze remained focused on the fireplace. “It must have been very useful when you had dear Anthony living here, was it not?”

Whatever Steve had been about to say died in his mouth. Stone’s implications - and veiled threat - caught him completely by surprise. It must have shown in his face, too, because when Stone finally turned his gaze on him, his eyes sparkled with mirth at the sight. 

“Oh, don’t look so surprised, dear fellow. I’m sure you two had most of the others fooled… I’m just particularly acquainted with Stark’s methods. And believe me, no one in their right mind would ever fault you for taking advantage of what was right in front of your nose. I know  _ I  _ certainly wouldn’t. Then again, I know perfectly well how irresistible Anthony can be, especially when _ properly motivated _ ,” he said, rubbing his thumb over his index and middle finger, clearly indicating that motivation to be monetary payment. “You’ll find no judgement here…”

Steve felt his blood boil at Stone’s implications. He stood up, barely containing himself from charging at the other man.

“How dare you…” Steve started, his voice trembling with rage but before he could continue, Stone cut in once more.

“Don’t be absurd, Lord Rogers. Sit down. Or have you forgotten that I have yet to sign your precious little deal, hmm?” he replied drily, and Steve once more stopped in his tracks. 

Stone’s smile widened at Steve’s hesitation. “Are you willing to throw away the chance at a better livelihood for so many people, all for the sake of some misguided notion of preserving Anthony Stark’s ruined reputation?” 

Steve felt a burning rage upon hearing Stone speaking so flippantly about the things that Steve held so dear, of all his efforts to keep the Stark estate from ruin. At the same time, he knew that Stone raised a very true point. Too much was at stake over this deal. 

He felt more powerless than he had been in a long time. 

“I thought so,” Stone said, after a moment, smugly.

“Does your fiancee know about you dallying around with other people,  _ my lord _ ?” Steve replied, trying to keep his tone casual. Instead of sitting down, he planted his feet on the floor, refusing to obey orders from someone  _ inside his own damn house. _

It seemed that being threatened with exposure finally got through Stone’s thick skin enough for him to abandon his tea and finally stand up to face Steve directly for the first time that evening.

“As a matter of fact, my Eliza is perfectly aware of my past dalliance with Anthony Stark and she has graciously forgiven my foolish infatuation with a well-known gold-digging miscreant,” he replied, his tone seemingly indifferent, though his eyes burned. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business anyway, Rogers. Stark clearly doesn’t have your favour any longer. It is perfectly clear to me - and to anyone with eyes, I might add - that you, my lord, are done playing house with your secretary.”

Steve went entirely still. The army captain inside Steve told him that Stone was simply trying to get a reaction out of him, but he couldn’t help that unnerving feeling that Stone was merely stating facts. 

It was one thing for him to admit to himself that he had behaved shamefully towards Tony; it was an entirely different matter for a man such as Stone to be rubbing Steve’s own failings in his face.

“You will stay away from him,” Steve stated, voice hard and emotionless, tired of playing Stone’s games.

Stone huffed. “Or else what?” he asked, laughing at the fury written on Steve’s face. “As if I would want anything to do with him, Rogers. He’s spoiled goods. No better than a  _ servant _ . It’s a pity, really. He  _ was  _ a great fuck, as I’m sure you know very wel-”

Steve moved fast, his fist striking Stone’s smug face with force enough to knock the man down. 

Steve loomed over the fallen form, ready for a fight at any sign of provocation. It didn’t matter anymore that the man before him was a lord, an earl, or even that he was his guest. 

Stone wasn’t laughing any more. He looked stunned, as if not actually believing what had happened. It probably was the first time Stone had got what he deserved, Steve mused with a dark sense of satisfaction.

“You  _ will  _ stay away from him,” he repeated.

He got no reply.

That would have to do for now. Steve knew not to expect anything else from a man as proud and conceited as Tiberius Stone. 

He left Stone’s room still yearning for a fight, but knowing he needed to cool his temper off somehow. As awful that interaction with Stone had been, he was certain Tony had had it much worse.

* * *

Tony, unsurprisingly, didn’t show up for dinner that night.

Steve made sure to send Miss Potts up with a tray for him, but he was honestly glad that Tony would be spared of suffering through dinner with Lord Stone. Unfortunately, Steve could not avoid it, but he at least had the satisfaction of watching him try to explain his freshly blackened eye to the ladies of their company. 

Steve regretted somewhat that he hadn’t been able to restrain himself from physically assaulting Lord Stone, even though he had most definitely been baited into doing so. There were too many things at risk here, and Steve needed to act smarter than that.

The atmosphere during dinner was strange to say the least. Steve tried to keep up with his duties as a host and act jovial, while his heart and mind were still in turmoil. Lord Stone was uncharacteristically reserved tonight, a fact that hadn’t gone unobserved by Miss Hill and the Carruthers, who kept shooting curious glances at both Stone and Steve himself. Thankfully, Sharon and Mrs Dugan were happy to chatter away like they had done every evening, and thus kept at least some semblance of normalcy.

“I say, my friend. You are terribly distracted this evening. Is everything alright?” Dugan asked, voice filled with genuine concern. 

Shaking his head, Steve forced a smile as he replied. “I’m perfectly fine, Timothy. I just have a lot on my mind, that is all. You know me, all duty and no fun...” 

“Well, your army days are behind you, so you should at least take pride in your accomplishments, Steve. You’ve certainly saved this place from ruin, I’d say. It’s time you did something for yourself, my fellow. Relax a little. Have fun!”

Before Steve could respond, he found himself the focus of Mrs Dugan’s enthusiastic attention. “Oh, but what a wonderful idea you had, Sharon! Isn’t it a great idea, Lord Rogers? It will be such a perfect way to end our trip!” she said, clapping her hands repeatedly as she turned towards Steve expecting an answer. 

Steve smiled weakly, having been caught completely off guard. He had stopped following the ladies’ conversation fairly early on, and couldn’t possibly figure out what he was supposed to say. 

“Oh, I am sure it would be a terrible bother, Beatrice,” Sharon said, shyly, and not at all helpful.

“Nonsense! It doesn’t need to be a large event. It shouldn’t take more than a few days to organize, and you know it’s just the perfect way to celebrate your deal being finalized,” Mrs Dugan continued, and slowly it dawned on Steve what exactly they were talking about.

“A.. ball?” he surmised, and took Mrs Dugan’s excited squeal as confirmation he was correct. 

“My dear, Lord Rogers already showed us such generous hospitality, you should know better than to press him for such a thing…” Dugan tutted disapprovingly at his wife’s antics. “Please forgive her, my friend. You’ve provided so much for us already, there is no need for such frivolities.”

Steve watched as both Miss Carter and Mrs Dugan deflated at that admonishment. At the other end of the table, Lord Stone smirked for the first time that night, apparently enjoying Steve’s discomfort.

“It would have to be very short notice, you realize, my dear. I have to be back in town next week, so the only possible date for a ball would be on the eve of our departure, a mere six days from tonight. You can’t possibly be asking that of our host!” Dugan pleaded with his wife. 

All through dinner, Steve raked his mind for a way to keep Lord Stone away from Tony. As much as he hated it, he still needed Lord Stone to sign. Losing the railway deal at this point would mean that all the hard work of these past weeks would go to waste, and the Stark Estate finances would be back to square one. Steve had already spent a rather large sum of money paying off the property’s mortgage, and he needed the estate to start making some real profit soon, or it would leave him basically incapable of supporting it in the long run.

He and Stone were playing a dangerous game. But seeing the man somewhat subdued after their earlier confrontation cemented Steve’s earlier assumption that, despite him claiming otherwise, Lord Stone really did  _ not  _ want his affair with Tony to be made public. Stone couldn’t actually walk away from this deal so far into negotiations without raising a lot of eyebrows and at least as many questions. 

Questions that Steve would gladly answer.  _ Very publicly _ .

Of course, that would probably also hurt Tony’s already battered reputation as much as it would Stone’s, if not more so. So Steve really needed to avoid that. In a few more hours, the deal would be signed and after that, it would be only a few days before he would be gone. 

He just needed to keep Tiberius Stone away from Tony Stark for just a few more days.

“Please, my lord?” Sharon’s gentle voice brought him back from his musings. “It would be such a perfect way to end this wonderful trip,” she said, looking at him with wide eyes. 

Perhaps he was going about it the wrong way. If Steve couldn’t keep Lord Stone away from Tony for the rest of his visit, then he would just have to keep  _ Tony  _ away from Lord  _ Stone _ . 

A ball, even a small one, at such short notice, would be a nightmare for his staff. Jarvis and Miss Potts would need all available hands in order to pull it off.

_ All  _ hands. 

Perhaps there was some merit to that whole ball idea after all.

“Well, Miss Carter... I couldn’t possibly say no after such a heartfelt plea, now, could I? Alright then, we shall have a ball,” Steve stated, to the utter delight of both Miss Carter and Mrs Dugan and the surprise of everyone else at the table.

Anything to keep Tony safely away from that horrible man.

* * *

Next morning, Steve woke up earlier than usual, and took a small breakfast in his room. With it, Jarvis also brought in a letter that had arrived early in the morning, from Sir James Barnes. 

In a few to-the-point lines, Bucky informed Steve of his imminent arrival along with Lady Natalia and Mr Banner. He also indicated that during his stay in the capital, he had met with Fury, and that the general had given him some new information on a matter Steve had recently inquired about. 

The signing of the railway agreement took place in the library, so that every interested party, from the representatives and members of the Midland Railway Company to Steve’s own solicitor and even the ladies of their company, could attend. Tony had presented them with the finalised document - and two spare copies - which everyone took turns to inspect. After Steve had laid down his signature, both Mister Carruthers and Lord Stone needed to do so on behalf of the Company’s board of directors for the document to be valid. Then, it was done. The people gathered clapped politely, the notary collected the copies to be taken back to his office for filling, and Steve could finally breathe again.

The guests were soon guided by Jarvis to the dining room for lunch, with only Tony remaining behind, gathering his notes and papers from the transaction. 

When Steve saw Tony this morning, looking once again his perfectly poised self, with only the hint of dark circles rimming his eyes to betray the events of the previous evening, Steve could only admire how adept Tony was at masking his emotions. 

“Congratulations, my lord,” Tony said, after a few moments of awkward silence. “You’ve accomplished quite a feat today.”

He looked so earnest in that moment, with his guard momentarily down enough for Steve to see the vulnerability in his eyes. 

Indeed, how could Steve forget that saving Stark Manor and the rest of the estate had meant so much to Tony, he had practically given his body for it.

Steve couldn’t take the praise for this accomplishment without reflecting on his shameful behaviour towards Tony, since both had the same ulterior motive.

Steve lowered his eyes, ashamed. “Please don’t… don’t thank me. Not for that. Not you, at least.”

Tony didn’t say anything for a few moments. “Of course,” he whispered, shoulders dropping.

Steve wished he was allowed near him. He desperately needed to hold his delicate frame, to offer comfort with his touch. But  _ would  _ it offer comfort to Tony, or would it just comfort Steve? Steve, unfortunately, suspected the latter was the real answer and, well, he didn’t really deserve to be comforted, did he? 

Not yet, anyway. No, what Steve needed to do right now was keep Tony safe from Lord Stone.

“Have you heard about the ball?” he asked.

“A ball?” Tony repeated, perplexed. 

Steve cleared his throat. “Yes. The ladies insisted. I figured it would be a nice way to celebrate the railway deal and also make it known to the public.”

“Right...” Tony said, looking like he wanted to add more, but held himself back. 

“It will be only a small one, you understand. Such short notice… But, I was wondering if you would be willing to offer your assistance to Miss Potts until the night of the ball? Perhaps you could go with her to distribute the invitations to our neighbours?” Steve added, trying to keep his manner casual, although probably failing miserably.

Tony’s eyebrows went up at Steve’s suggestion, but, after a moment of silent contemplation, he nodded, though somewhat reluctantly.

“Right. I… Yes, of course I can. I will talk to Miss Potts at once,” he replied, his tone business as usual. He got up, gathering his papers close to his chest, and prepared to leave. “Is that all, my lord?”

Steve couldn’t help the pang of disappointment at having this rare, if brief, moment alone with Tony end. “Yes, that is all.”

* * *

“Fury was adamant that Stark took the fall for crimes he did not commit, or even have knowledge of. It was a set up. Only it was discovered too late. The damage to the Stark Company and to Lord Stark’s reputation couldn’t be undone, and Obadiah Stane and his associates had long disappeared without a trace,” Bucky said, shaking his head. They were in one of the smaller parlours, one of the most secluded places Steve had found in the manor. Tea had been served not long ago, and Steve had given specific instructions not to be disturbed.

“But taking Tony’s titles? The Company, yes, I understand why it went bankrupt, but they took Tony’s titles months after everything happened.”

“I wondered about it, too. Fury thinks there must have been interference from someone of a higher rank. There was a case of treason, selling weapons to the enemy. The public needed to see someone pay. Even with the official charges being dropped, Stark was the scapegoat. He got off light, really. He could have very easily lost his head.”

Steve closed his eyes, shuddering at the thought.

Bucky shot him a concerned glance, before he continued. “There’s more that Fury isn’t telling us, that much I can tell you for certain. That man’s secrets have secrets.”

That was an understatement. As the master of spies for the crown, General Fury was likely the best informed man in the country.

“Could anything be done to find Stane? Make him confess?” he wondered aloud. 

Bucky frowned, thinking. “Fury said that there’s a navy man looking for him. Rhodes, I think his name was. He says he’s a friend of Stark. Ever heard of him?” 

“No… He’s never mentioned anyone to me.” So… Tony had a man in the navy that he trusted enough to send on such an important task. Something inside him protested the thought of Tony trusting anyone but Steve with his secrets.

“How do you always manage to get yourself into situations like this, Steve?” Bucky said, shaking his head. “I should never have left you here on your own. You’ve never thought clearly when it came to Stark.”

“Tony is… it’s not his fault,” Steve objected quietly.

“I never say it was,” Bucky replied, fixing Steve with a penetrative stare. “You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?” he asked slowly, more of a rhetorical question than anything else. “Even after all these years...”

Steve could only hang his head in shame. He could never lie to Bucky, and he was tired of denying his feelings for Tony.

“I worry about you, Stevie. I was there the last time you got involved with Stark. You barely survived him breaking your heart. I’d hate to see it happen again.”

“Tony… he’s different from what I had made him to be in my mind. I think… Buck, this Tony, the one I’ve got to know these few months, he would never do that to me. He’s... changed.”

“Hmm. Maybe.” 

* * *

  
  


Steve had asked Reverend Coulson if he could visit St Mary Magdalene’s some weeks before, but had all but forgotten about it until a written invitation from the man had come with his daily correspondence.

As soon as the rest of his company got wind of it, both Miss Carter and Lady Natalia wished to visit the place. In the end, it was decided that both the ladies and Mrs Dugan would accompany Lord Rogers on his visit, along with Bucky and Mister Banner. They even had to hire a second carriage in order for everyone to be comfortable enough for the duration of the ride.

It was barely half an hour’s ride to the place. Thankfully, Steve shared it with Bucky, Lady Natalia and Mister Banner, so it passed in a rather quiet manner.

The building itself was a simple but charming cottage. It was situated on top of a hill not five miles from the village, and surrounded by green pastures and well-tended fields. Animals happily grazed on the grass while the laughter of children filled the air even from afar.

Reverend Coulson was waiting outside the main entrance to the building, along with some of the women who lived there. 

After introductions and a short tour of the place, Steve found himself walking through the cottage’s vegetable garden in the company of Mr Coulson, while the rest of his company had scattered to explore the grounds.

Steve always thought that vegetable gardens had a special, useful kind of beauty. To someone who had experienced hunger, a place that grew food when properly tended was almost magical. It had been one of Steve’s favourite chores, back when he was still working for the Starks, to help Anna tend to her vegetable garden.

“I must say, this place is very well kept, Mr Coulson,” he commented, noting the water well with interest. Its pulley system looked unlike anything Steve had seen before. He remembered Tony had said something about working around this place, and, under closer inspection, Steve recognized Tony’s unique touch.

“Thank you, my lord. A nice contraption, isn’t it? It needs but the barest amount of effort to lift a full bucket of water. Even a child as young as ten could do it.”

“Really? How extraordinary,” Steve exclaimed, impressed.

“Just one of the ways Mr Stark has helped around here,” Mr Coulson said.

“Yes, he mentioned something of the sort. He also told me he had made a few donations?”

“Indeed he did. Mr Stark has been invaluable in setting the place up. Half the furniture inside came from the manor. Such a stark difference from his father, forgive the pun,” Mr Coulson noted.

Steve frowned, finding the reference to the previous Lord Stark as odd. 

“From my recollection, Lord Howard was a fairly generous man,” he said. After all, it was the elder Lord Stark that had paid for Steve’s army commission. Even though he had always seemed distant and aloof, and Tony had always complained about his father ‘not being fair’, Lord Howard had seemed like an average man of the peerage to Steve.

Mr Coulson huffed. “No, I supposed you’d think that, my lord. But the late Lord Stark was a man of tradition. He detested the idea of giving shelter to women who had given birth out of wedlock, and I’m sorry to say that, had it not been for his passing, this place wouldn’t exist. While alive, he was avidly opposed to its creation. Yes, Lord Howard was… a difficult man.”

It was a sobering statement, and it made Steve wonder. He had never really known Lord Howard. Whatever he’d learned about the man had been from the things the other servants - or Tony, sometimes - said about him. But he had always believed Howard to be a fair man. Hard, but fair. 

This new piece of information shed a whole different kind of light on Lord Stark’s personality, one that was far worse than Steve had ever imagined. If Steve had been so mistaken in Lord Howard's character, well, then, had he missed anything else?

* * *

Two days before the ball, almost everyone in the manor was busy with preparations. Steve wished that the entire affair would be done already. Every day was more insufferable than the previous one. He was tired of it all, and most of all, he was tired of keeping up the pretense that nothing was amiss between himself and Lord Stone, and even worse, between himself and Tony. In the past three days, he had spent less than a total of half an hour in Tony’s presence. It hurt him more than he would ever admit, but it was necessary if he wanted to keep Tony safe from Stone’s unwanted advances. 

All this worry had been, unfortunately, keeping Steve from getting a much needed good night’s sleep. After tossing and turning in his bed fruitlessly for what seemed like hours, he finally decided to give up. 

He threw a robe over his nightshirt and left his room, careful to make as little noise as possible. Then, he stood barefoot on the cold floorboards. At first, he was surrounded by darkness, but after a moment, he could see the rough outline of the corridor in front of him. And there, at the end of the long corridor, he saw a sliver of faint, barely-there light.

Even though he couldn’t really be sure of it, Steve knew then and there that the light was coming from Tony’s room. Steve moved as if he was in a trance, his feet taking him to his destination without a conscious thought from his part.

Up close, Steve could see that the door had been left ajar in what, not many weeks ago, would have seemed a clear invitation. Before Steve found the courage to reach for the doorknob, he heard Tony’s familiar voice and it made him freeze in his tracks.

“... I can’t ask Steve to have him  _ here _ , Pepper. No, it’s better this way. Once all this ball business is over, I’ll meet him at the inn.”

Steve felt colour rush to his face, and was glad no one was around to witness it. Of course it wasn’t an invitation. He felt so foolish, now, for ever entertaining the thought. 

“And you said he has made progress?”

“He said so. But honestly, I don’t really care about that anymore. I just want to see Rhodey again, Pep. I bet he looks really dashing, in his officer’s uniform,” Tony said, sounding playful and more excited than Steve had heard him in a while.

“Oh, I’m sure he does. Well... I should get going now, Tony. It’s getting late and both of us have to get up earlier than dawn.”

“Must you leave already?” Tony whined, but Steve could already hear the lady’s light footsteps coming closer to the door.

He carefully backed away, and made a quick return to his own rooms.

Once again, Steve felt ashamed of his conduct. Not only had he not made his presence known to the pair, he had stood there eavesdropping on them like some gossiping busybody. But, in Steve’s defence, it had been so long since he heard Tony like that, actually excited and  _ happy _ , that it would have been impossible for him to simply walk away. When he thought of what Tony had said, though, he was left puzzled, alarmed, even. Tony had obviously arranged to meet someone, a man, under Steve’s nose. That name,  _ Rhodey _ , had seemed familiar. It didn’t take long for Steve to connect the mystery man that Tony was planning to meet at the inn with the man Bucky had told him about. 

Something ugly stirred inside Steve’s stomach. The navy man that was looking into Stane, Rhodes, was obviously coming to meet Tony. That in itself shouldn’t cause Steve any worry, but it wasn’t only that, was it? 

No, it was something Tony arranged in secret, a meeting away from the house, - in an inn, of all places - with a man of whom the mere mention apparently made Tony bloom with happiness. He recalled something Tony said specifically:  _ I don’t really care about that anymore, I just want to see him. _ It made Steve’s gut clench with terrible jealousy _. _ What else could it mean but that Tony cared more about seeing the man again than learning of any progress that had been made in the effort to restore his good name. 

Who was Rhodes to Tony? Why was he so important? Steve’s heart sank. The love in Tony’s voice had been evident. If only Tony sounded like that when talking about  _ Steve _ . Perhaps once, years ago, he had. But nowadays what was Steve but an endless cause of stress, nothing more than a duty for this man whom he had come to cherish again, so much. 

Steve was becoming less and less sure about everything he thought he’d known about his and Tony’s past. Ever since he had talked with Mr Coulson about Lord Howard, Steve couldn’t shake the troubling feeling that he was missing something vital, some piece of information that would explain it all. 

It was as if something was forming in his subconscious, something that he couldn’t yet see, but was there all the same. And now, this. Just what was the relationship between Tony and this Mr Rhodes? 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Please let me know what you thought of the chapter. Your comments not only make my day, they add a huge deal to my motivation for writing. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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